“My fetish is you,” Summer murmured, sliding her fingertips down his chest. “The hell with the clothes. Prefer you without.” She arched to catch his mouth with hers, biting at his lip and easing off just before drawing blood. Better to not, until she knew what /that/ might mean. Long fingers hooked into the waistband of his trousers and still-booted feet linked up behind his waist, caging him in. “Mine.”
The Mesmer smiled sincerely at those words. It fit them so perfectly, made him feel like maybe this wasn’t just an off-the-wall chance type arrangement. He gasped in surprise when she caught his lip in her teeth, a quiet moan managing to slip from his throat at the pain. He noted that she pulled away before drawing blood, and he couldn’t blame her; despite it having little actual value, gods only knew what it meant if you didn’t ask – and now wasn’t really question time. He smirked down at her as she trapped him to her, voice purring like velvet, “‘Mhmm.. Definitely.”
She inched her hands around until she could pull herself flush to his body, basically hanging off him. He felt so good under her grip; someone who would give and take, push and pull and never let her just run over him. “Love you, you gorgeous bastard,” she said, and kissed him some more so he couldn’t talk.