MHA #1, Late-ish Sunday Night
MHA #1 looked a bit like a crime scene. One that had been hit by a tornado.
At the eye of the storm -- at the very still center of the overturned furniture and piles of strewn-about clothing and whipped-cream and chocolate-syrup stains -- were two figures, lying on the floor.
Neither of whom could move.
"Okay," Rikku managed, very, very weakly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I want any more sex."
She was starting to chafe.
(for her Turk. other people can call if they want, but please do not come visit, as they are unable to get the door.)
At the eye of the storm -- at the very still center of the overturned furniture and piles of strewn-about clothing and whipped-cream and chocolate-syrup stains -- were two figures, lying on the floor.
Neither of whom could move.
"Okay," Rikku managed, very, very weakly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I don't think I want any more sex."
She was starting to chafe.
(for her Turk. other people can call if they want, but please do not come visit, as they are unable to get the door.)