twistedsinews replied to your post “painterofhorizons replied to your photo “I saw @ma-sulevin make one...”
prompt: furia & troy being happy for 500 words
Troy kicked the door of his apartment closed and crossed the tiny living room.
“What do you want to drink?” Furia called from the kitchen. With a sticky sounding pop, she pulled the refrigerator door open.
He knew the reason for her silence and chuckled quietly as he set the pizza down.
“Never mind,” she said. The few glass jars on the fridge door jingled as she shut it. The hiss of two bottles echoed through the tiled room. She gave him a look when she entered the living room. “How do you survive on beer, mustard, and ketchup?”
He smirked at her, staring. Troy was never a big fan of summer, but Furia in her short shorts and tiny tank made him wish summer might just stick around for an extra couple of months. He flipped open the pizza box. “Delivery.”
She rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. “That stuff will kill you.”
“But it tastes so good,” he countered with a laugh, scooting back to let her slip past him.
Furia just laughed, stopping in front of him to offer him a bottle. Troy let his hand tease at the back of her knee and a few inches up her thigh. Her eyes never left his and he let his fingertips linger on her bare skin. Her free hand traced his brow and for a moment nothing else seemed to matter—there was just her smile and the way it made his heart pound in his chest. As her fingers tucked behind his ear, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to sliver of skin peeking out between the denim waistband and cotton hem of her shirt.
The pleasant scratch of her nails on his neck was countered by the chill of the bottle that pressed against his warm skin. He hissed and pulled away from her soft skin and the cold glass.
“Here,” she ordered, holding the two open bottles between them as if they might hold either of them back.
He took the beer and watched her fall onto the sofa next to him. It was a graceful movement, for more so than the way he tumbled onto furniture. She seemed to glide like a feather on a breeze, landing softly on the old secondhand couch. Her hands went into her hair and she pulled it up into a messy tail that she doubled over on itself.
Troy’s hand was drawn to the newly exposed skin. He let the backs of his fingers trace the column of her neck, then he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss just below her jaw.
She turned and leaned just far enough away to make another kiss mostly impossible. “Thought you invited me over for pizza and a movie?” she charged. The tone held a note of scolding, but there was an unmistakable heat in her eyes. Troy never wanted to burn so much in his life.
“Figured it was a good jumping off point,” he said with a smirk, laying his arm along the back of the sofa which brought him nearer to her.
Furia closed the distance, but not completely. The tip of her nose brushed his as their foreheads met. “Well, I, for one, am starving and I hate cold pizza.” She pecked him on the tip of the nose and shifted toward the coffee table.
Troy sighed through his nose in amusement. “How is that even possible?”
She shrugged and took a bit of the slice she’d freed.
“That seems unnatural.”
“Though,” she started to speak around her piece before covering her mouth with the back of her hand, “it is better cold than microwaved.”
“Who are you?” Troy teased.
“What?” she laughed. “I’m particular about my pizza.”
“So, if you don’t microwave it what do you do with it?” He took a healthy bite of his slice and waited for her answer.
“Never order it when I’m alone unless I’m starving and can eat the whole pie.”
Troy’s brow drew tightly over his eyes. “So, if you have any left over, what do you do with it?”
“Depends on how good it was.”
“Okay,” he said just after swallowing his mouthful. “Do you just toss it?”
“Hell no. I’ll warm it up in the oven, keeps the bottom crispy. Or bring it to Memo. He’ll eat just about anything that doesn’t eat him first.”
Troy nearly choked. “Seriously. You rebake it?”
“Sí.” Furia popped a dangling piece of pepperoni in her mouth, then inched toward him. Her voice was a low rumbling purr, the tone that rattled down his spine right to his groin. “A quick 20 minute or so bake. Gets warm all the way through, the cheese gets all melty again and the crust gets this crispness. It’s almost better than fresh.”
He was very aware of his breathing in that moment, as her lips brushed against his chin. “Sounds good. Maybe we’ll have to try that out later.”
She hummed at him, her lips hovering mere millimeters from his own. The temptation defeated his resolve and he closed the distance. This time she didn’t end the connection in teasing prematurity, but it did eventually fade when the viewing warnings announced the start of their film. The credits allowed them a few lingering pecks, then she shifted once more. Grabbing another slice, she leaned against him and Troy draped his arm over her shoulder, holding her close.
