Monday, 16 February 2009

agentcampbell: (Amused [Blue])
14.1.4. “The same passions in man and woman nonetheless differ in tempo; hence man and woman do not cease misunderstanding one another.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

Co-written with [livejournal.com profile] straight2point


Harri lay curled up on Marc's sofa, having come over after work and effectively not moved since. She felt like shit, but she wasn't about to admit it. Her eyes ached, her ears ached, her nose ached, her throat ached, and even her fucking toes ached. She hated being sick, so if she never admitted to it then she could just work through it, and she'd be fine. Right? Right. She hadn't even touched her glass of wine, or made any attempt to eat the take-out she'd brought with her. Her head rest in Marc's lap, and even this close to his dick she didn't even feel horny.

Bloody hell...

She started to unbutton her shirt, a sweat breaking out across her brow. She wouldn't admit anything was wrong until she was on her deathbed. Until then it was nothing. She'd get through it. Hopefully it was just the shrimp she ate at lunch.

Marc finished the spring roll he was eating and licked his fingers, smirking down at her. “You aren't going to ravish me before I've even had a chance to digest, are you?” he joked and picked up his wine glass to take a sip... )

All muses reference with permission


Word Count | 3,304