#soooooo...

He wants her like he hasn't wanted things before. Hungers for her. Like an addiction, like he's struggling to breathe without her, like he's been denied freedom his whole life and here it is, brave and beautiful.

So he kisses her. Because he wants to.

And she kisses him back, and he can only assume that she does because she wants to. He's tangling his fingers in her hair, her lips hot against his, something burning, flaming, exploding deep inside him in a carnal excitement he hasn't felt since… well, since the last time he kissed her.

Adrenalin is thundering through him with every rapid beat of his heart, he's gasping against her lips,   skin tingling over his abs where she's touching him, pulling at the buttons of his shirt.

Doesn't matter if he lets her take it off now. He wants it all off. Wants to feel as much of her skin as he can. She breaks the kiss first, following the demanding tug of his hands in her hair as she tilts her head back and moans when he nips at her exposed neck.

She's grinding against him, using the sideboard for leverage as she relishes in the friction between them. Any concerns about appearances, apathetic or otherwise, are burning up in the fever. She's forced his shirt half way off his shoulders, but he's too distracted worshipping her, he doesn't notice the fabric tearing until it's refusing to go any further.

He growls a curse and disentangles himself from her, throwing the shirt to the floor. He wants to do so much to her he worries there won't be time. How long would it take to taste every inch of her? He promises himself that he's going to find out