Swiftcurrent Creek [m] you know i'll be seeking if you run and hide

Not cold. Perhaps if she had come here on a worse day she would have taken this as a slight; but instead, instead, it feels as though it is an invitation. Ah, well, fuck it. Overheating is worth it, right? a quiet snicker, breathless and stuck somewhere in her throat. C'mere, you.
It had been too long, much too long, since mindless passion had sparked between them. Some part of Wren was afraid of it; afraid of Silvertongue thinking she sought only her body and not the rest of her, afraid that she would be seen with the sharp eyes and languid, filthy smile of man.
She is shy, at first, as such; eyes soft and preening, a kiss pressed gingerly to pulsepoint, arms stretched out in a welcoming embrace. And she searches, sifting, prying the layers — what was she thinking right now, really? Do you, um--?