Anya cackled as she staggered onto the porch, hanging onto the railing. "Oh my god, my shoes hurt so much..." she whined, watching Ben fumble the keys for a moment before managing to unlock the door. "Baby... baby c'mon..."
"I'm gettin' it, I'm gettin' it," he mumbled, his drawl hiding his slur a little bit better than her, though not much. He'd also cut himself off before her though, though with her much better tolerance they were both pitifully drunk. It was a good thing their Uber driver had thought they were funny...
He pulled the door open, and she stumbled over the frame as she came inside, squawking as her heel slipped on the tile of the entryway and then laughed. "Fuck, I had way too much..."
Ben laughed, catching her and nodding. "Specially for those shoes, huh?"
"Yes! Get them off me!" she said, straightening herself up and heading to the living room so that she could flop on the couch and hold her feet up. "Oooooooffff..." she whined, making Ben laugh at her some more.
He came over though undoing the tiny buckles on her ankles with fumbling fingers and then tossing the heels over towards the shoe rack without bothering to put them away properly.
As he rubbed her feet, he grinned, watching her melt into a puddle, laid out bonelessly on the couch in a manner that only drunk people could manage. "Better?"
Anya nodded, groaning slightly as he found a sore spot. "Oh... much. So much."
His grin widened into a full, soft smile, the one she was quickly falling hard and fast over. Ben eased her legs down with almost exaggerated care when she patted the couch beside her, and she giggled as she reached up, catching his hand and pulling him down.
"Oh my god, just c'mere," she groaned, making him laugh again as he thumped down beside her. She didn't stop pulling on his shirt though, not until their lips met and he was nearly on top of her.
He gave a startled, but definitely interested hum, catching himself on the arm of the couch behind her, his mouth tasting like the jack and cokes he'd been drinking all night. Hers undoubtedly tasted like fruit and vodka, her vice being found in mixing a near-lethal cocktail of hard liquor and sugar until her mouth buzzed just as much as her head would the next morning.
Anya groaned into the kiss, having intended to get a short one before pulling away, but quickly deepening it. Her hands released his shirt, but slid down his side to get underneath, exposing soft skin with hard muscles beneath. Mentally, she begged him to do the same to her, alcohol flushing her skin and making her feel too hot.
He indulged her without making her ask, cupping her neck as one hand fell to her hip, squeezing tightly. He made a deep, throaty noise that she was honestly too far gone to name, so deep it was nearly a growl, and she whimpered, digging her nails into his back.
"Oh.. yeah," Anya muttered against his lips. "God, gimme," she said as she was pulled back in.
