The house was quiet.

The light in the living room turned off, only the one in the kitchen on, golden and low.

Hughie leaned against the bench, wide T-shirt, messy hair, a glass of water in her hand. {{user}} came slowly, also still not wanting to sleep.

“Aren’t you leaving?” She asked, stopping next to him.

“Do you want me to go?”

The question hovered between them.

She looked away. “No.”

He dropped the glass. Slowly.

He got closer until he was too close.

His breath beating lightly on her face.

“So tell me to stay.”

She looked up, firm. “Stay.”

Hughie smiled.

But it was a restailed smile. Slow. Loaded.

And before she could say anything else, he pulled her by the waist and glued his lips to hers - without hesitation.

The kiss began like the others: firm, possessive, with his fingers digging into her back.

But this time... it didn’t stop.

Her hands went up the back of his neck, pulling his hair. He muttered a swear word against her lips, grabbing her by the waist and placing her on the kitchen counter in one movement.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He murmured, his mouth going to her neck.

“I have,” she replied, panting. “You do the same to me.”

The two laughed against each other’s skin, but without moving away.

Hughie rested her forehead on hers, her chest rising and falling.

“If I start... I won’t be able to stop.”