"What?" she asks, and Dick drinks from his now lukewarm ginger tea hoping to hide at least a little bit behind the mug.

She knows she's gorgeous, he knows that she knows, she hears it from everyone all the time, it kind of annoys him sometimes. It's hard to be confident when you have a terrible romantic past and everyone and their mothers make sure, you know, that your girl could be doing so much better. BUT nobody gets to see her like that, the early morning sun rays ebbing through the curtains, strings of light turning the natural frizz of her curls after a long night, in a veil of godly fire. One could look at her, and believe to have been touched.

"Grayson, you are worrying me."

He puts his mug on the counter, and picks one of her feet from his lap, kissing her naked shin.

There's something about the smug way she looks down at him. When her lips, bruised by kisses, curve in that particular smirk.

You'd think she'd own something over him, or tricked him somehow. Looks almost malicious, ill intended, the way she rocks on his lap, and her smile widens her mouth in a mean yet inviting wound when he moans softly.

There's nothing innocent, the way she looks down at him, it's not comfortable to be under that threat of forever, one feels quite the prey caught, somehow knowing that he should, but unwilling to leave.