[ he scrunches up his face, tilting his chin as he feigns thinking it over — as though he needs time to. he lets his fingers glide lightly up her naked back, pulling her shirt with it. he doesn't hook his fingers into the fabric to pull it over her head, though. there's no need to rush. bellamy's come to like taking his time, moving almost at a sloth-pace when he'd otherwise had been made of hurried and rushed movements. ]
[ he gives her a lazy smile, ] Never hurts. [ but he chooses not to specify what it is he's speaking of — being wooed or her removing her shirt to seduce him. his fingertips glide down her back, tracing what he can feel of her spine. ]
no subject
[ he gives her a lazy smile, ] Never hurts. [ but he chooses not to specify what it is he's speaking of — being wooed or her removing her shirt to seduce him. his fingertips glide down her back, tracing what he can feel of her spine. ]