[kavinsky shrugs his shoulders. manages to look kind of demure, instead of uncertain-but-drunk, pretending-careless-when-sad, or just eager-to-forget, which he is. is that what he's into? he thinks he could be. with someone he doesn't know, who doesn't know him. he's a vampire now; he could fight his way out if he had to and--
he barks a laugh, jackal-loud. marshmallow. shit.]
Okay, [he agrees.] Marshmallow. Hey, can you make my fucking nipples go down? Fucking chafes, man.
no subject
he barks a laugh, jackal-loud. marshmallow. shit.]
Okay, [he agrees.] Marshmallow. Hey, can you make my fucking nipples go down? Fucking chafes, man.