How did chatting to best friend about new guy, getting over a sore throat night turn into ‘Gold tied to a tree’?

““Hmmmm,” Belle hums against his skin, burrowed into the side of Gold’s neck, “No…” the very tip of her clever little tongue works higher, up the side of his throat and to the shell of his ear, “What I want,” she murmurs, “Is something a little more… special.”

“Oh,” he breathes, “Well, that’ll be a little difficult, love. What with me all tied up and everything.”

“I wonder.” She doesn’t sound fazed at all, she just goes back to nibbling on his earlobe, and oh, he’ll never tire of the effect she has on him.”

Seriously brain, seriously?

It’s been almost a week since I wrote new smut. Apparently Brain has a problem with that, and seeks to redress the balance. I’m weirdly okay with that.