Love, Hunt Me Down | Clean
The adrenalin that had been pumping through the young woman’s veins since seeing Sean in the square had faded, as had her energy, leaving her lying on the man’s chest. The odd store was still quiet, save for the rise and fall of both their chests and a single, solitary beating heart. Their muted surrounding let Clara’s thoughts begin to swirl once more, no longer distracted by the thrum of her body or frankly, a man between her legs. Now she was gently tracing circles against his tanned skin, the flush of her porcelain skin not quite yet gone as the two sat against the bench that had fallen victim to their intimacy, clothes haphazardly recovered and pieced back on.
The young woman sighed against her lover’s chest, angling her face to look up at him. “I think I need a shower; my jeans are sticking to my thighs— we need a shower.” It was only a small complaint, driven further by the unkempt feeling sweating always managed to create within Clara, it was more of a soft, light-hearted murmur to address the larger situation: what did they do next? The young woman gave a quiet laugh, pressing a chaste kiss to his collarbone before adding, “As much as I love your musky smell, I think some soap could do some good.”
She quieted after a moment, finding the courage to softly prod the man a bit more. “When… When do you think we can go home?” Could Sean even go home, or would there still be the police searching for him? What was the extent of his action, that seemed to trail back to the gun still hidden in her bag? Did they catch sight of his face, or had managed to identify him? Perhaps his status of the living dead would derail further investigation, and leave him in peace.
Sated and satisfied, Sean's eyes drooped with the threat of sleep. After weeks of separation, the pair had more than a little making up to do and he'd been put to the test. Now lying on his back, the man focused only on the weight of the woman against his chest. They'd gone through the ringer-- an hour surely had to have passed in their activity. But in the flurry of movement, he'd misplaced his phone and hadn't felt the need to seek it out.
With a short, happy exhale, Sean forced his eyes to crack open and meet those of his love's. "Take them back off. No one said you had to put your clothes on." There weren't many kinds of dirt that Sean enjoyed, but for this one he'd make an exception. He enjoyed the feel of the sweat against his cargos. It would remind him, for days, of a job well done. Removing his hand from behind his head, Sean traced the hollow dip of her spine and shrugged. "If this room weren't so small, it wouldn't be so hot. It probably smells like ass and candles in here right now." He joked with a small smile. The candles they'd lit were still burning strong, but for all their claims, did nothing to alleviate the cloud in the room.
Her next question brought him back to reality. He was a killer on the loose. "Uh... Soon. You can go home maybe tomorrow. The only thing you're going to have to worry about is the cops asking where I am. That's easily fixed." Running from the cops had never been his largest concern. As the Upstate Butcher, he'd never been careless enough to interact with them. In fact, Sean had only met a cop after he died. When he had no more reason to fear them. Not really anyway. "So yeah.. After we sleep I think, we could go over a plan for you to get home. It won't be hard."
