WARM WATER
@rmhwan
there’s a certain je ne sais quois about the lull that overcomes each and every occupant of alpha’s grandeur house. the push of body against body, lips upon lips. alpha with lotus, hellion with everyone, and (god forbid) the occasional jaeger fledging with their grubby little fingers smoothing over the small of a lotus girl’s back.
and she would care more—if cheap beer didn’t course through every busy vein and nursed earlier’s shots of tequila and whatever else—but as it is, song byul was officially too inebriated to give a shit about her legacy.
(read: it’s not that she’s too fucked up, just fucked up a moderate enough amount to care lesser than usual about who might or might not shit on lotus’ otherwise “pristine” reputation. pristine, as in generation after generation of lotus girls have yet to get caught for the shit they’ve done. in the games, out of the games, wherever.)
instead, her befuddled mind (big, beautiful, currently incapacitated from thinking beyond the rush to her head and the gnawing need to put her hands on something tall, broad, and alpha burning) fixates on the game she’s been coerced into, and the stranger (well, not stranger stranger) she pulled off the wall to join her.
“so,” the captain starts, words slightly slurred and lithe fingers wrapped loosely around the taller’s arm. “you know how to play right?” she gestures to the plastic cups lined up on either side of the table. “just drink—and then y’flip the fucking cup.”
she pinches his arm lightly, lips wielding a disarming smile as if its born for that and that only.
“not so hard right?”