It didn't matter as she molded to him that this was a huge mistake; it mattered that, in this moment, he felt the need in his soul slip away as his mouth worked along her exposed neck. Teeth scraped with intent along the smooth column, his stomach flopping as her arm slipped about his broad shoulders. His path took him from the side of her neck to the enticing hollow at the base of her throat when she moaned his name.

She was in his arms and he moved her towards his bedroom, his mouth still assaulting her skin, his lips pushing against her own, when he came to a halt just at the small space that passed for a hallway between the two bedrooms and loo in the flat.

Letting her slip gently from his arms, he gave a shake of his head and muttered, distractedly, that he would be back.

"Don't leave," he begged, his voice hoarse. He reappeared a few moments later, a pair of jeans on his head just poking out of a green t-shirt that had a funny white stain across the left shoulder. Rubbing a hand over the top of his head, he idly took note that he was in need of a new shave, his eyes couldn't quite manage to lift to see if Charlotte had heeded his words.