Shopping for.. 'friends'

Zoe looked at him, her eyes wide as she could feel the movements he was putting upon her. Her arms moved so he could get her shirt off, and she looked at him, her eyes meeting his, her body responding to his rocking motions with a matching movement, her lips parted as she gasped softly, feeling the arousal, the tension, the sexual need to release their endorphin's, and he wanted her to lose herself in it..

Zoe slowly nodded and let her head fall back, her eyes closing as she ran her fingers through his hair, "Okay.." She whispered and pulled him up so she could kiss him, while at the same time, pulling his shirt up to try and get it over his head. "Let's do this.. please." She hissed, her lips catching his again, her body pressing against his, her tongue pushing into his mouth, letting the alcohol, the weed, the tension wash over her and drive her actions.

To discard of the clothing which had previously concealed Zoe's pale and strikingly molded torso from view brought Nemo much satisfaction as he eagerly threw the offending cloth to the floor with his right hand, while he preoccupied his left with the task of mapping out the plains of Zoe's stomach. As though he believed himself capable of absorbing the memory of her figure with his palms, he climbed her diaphragm as Zoe kissed him, the rough pads of his fingers providing brilliant friction against her skin.

He sought out the scratch of her fingernails along his scalp, silently pleading for the contact that she had granted him as she had trimmed his locks in the moments prior. He wanted the sting that bit throughout his skull; the practiced tug of his hair from their roots as he rocked with her.

He needed to lower his expectations of her.

At Zoe's prompting, Nemo redirected his attention to pull over his head with the arching of his back the t-shirt that remained in their way. "Your turn," he informed her as he lowered himself in a fluent rolling of hips to kiss Zoe's bare skin just beneath the line of her bra. And he offered a silent prayer to some higher authority of that Zoe would not recognize the film that his distraction, his sight, had splayed across his eyes, thus dulling in colour his characteristically lively blues.