You don’t know how long it’s been since Ellie passed you the joint, but you know she’s way more gone than you are.

She’s sprawled out on the floor between your legs, cheek pressed against your thigh, giggling at nothing. Every so often, she nuzzles in closer, her nose brushing against the fabric of your pants, and you can feel the warmth of her breath creeping higher.

“Shit,” she mumbles, voice heavy and slow. She shifts, her fingers lazily tracing over your knee before she presses her face deeper into you “You’re so soft. Like… stupid soft.” Her laugh is muffled, her lips dragging over the inside of your thigh as she turns her head, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You smell good, too,” she adds, her smirk lazy, teasing—like she knows exactly what she’s doing. “S’kinda unfair.”

She stretches, her hands finding your hips as she inches closer, her nose almost touching where you know she wants to be.