Hangman tastes good.

That’s her first thought.

Her second is: you fucking traitor.

But she’s drunk and sunburned and exhausted after too much training and she’s not about to punish herself for wanting this.

What is this exactly?

It’s a kiss. Innocent. Simple. 

But it’s not innocent because it’s pretty fucking dirty especially when Hangman tilts his head, digs his thumb into the nape of her neck so that his tongue plunges nearly into her throat. It's like he’s fucking her by way of her mouth.

He’s so close that she can feel his lashes flutter against her cheeks. He is all hard flat planes and bunched muscle as she straddles his lap. “Shit,” he mumbles before he’s kissing her again. “Fuck.”

He really is all out of words, but who can even think at a time like this?