[The room is cramped - the larger of the beds, belonging to Jess, is littered with her possessions, but blessedly empty, while Clara's is neatly made. A leather jacket hung off of a drawer pull and a volume of Shakespeare are the only signs that someone other than Jessica Jones inhabits this room.
She presses back, and for a moment she can feel Amos' heartbeat behind her shoulder. It sends a thrill through her chest, and she breathes in involuntarily, almost a stifled gasp. Okay, there's something she didn't foresee.]
Lock that door behind you and we can find out.
[She wants to get closer, to feel his heart beat through her own chest, to feel like it's her own. As soon as their privacy is ensured, she turns beneath his touch, until they're as close to chest-to-chest as her lack of height allows. Her hands press against his abdomen, only a little tentative, and slide up and over the generous expanse of his T-shirt, fingers tracing muscle along the way. Finally, they wind around his shoulders, and she gives a little tug, a signal of, "Either get down here or help me up there."]
no subject
She presses back, and for a moment she can feel Amos' heartbeat behind her shoulder. It sends a thrill through her chest, and she breathes in involuntarily, almost a stifled gasp. Okay, there's something she didn't foresee.]
Lock that door behind you and we can find out.
[She wants to get closer, to feel his heart beat through her own chest, to feel like it's her own. As soon as their privacy is ensured, she turns beneath his touch, until they're as close to chest-to-chest as her lack of height allows. Her hands press against his abdomen, only a little tentative, and slide up and over the generous expanse of his T-shirt, fingers tracing muscle along the way. Finally, they wind around his shoulders, and she gives a little tug, a signal of, "Either get down here or help me up there."]