Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim
Thal could have sworn his own resolve slipped for a moment, a glimpse behind the careful control he displayed; but she must have been mistaken, because Vesper is suddenly breaking nearly every point of contact. Each retreat of his fingers, shadows, and body feels bittersweet, stripping away the fuel that had been flaring her desire while cruelly returning some of her own senses to her. If she were weaker willed, she might have whimpered at the loss, her body still calling for him, but the way he so easily pulls away from the heat sparking between them makes her jealous, frustration rising to cover the tiny pang of fear that ripples in her mind. A fear of being discarded. It's brief yet strong before she's able to seal it back inside, guarded by the anger and self-confident swagger. She will not be toyed with like this.
Prideful determination rages to replace the lust, noting the way he doesn't fully pull away yet, lingering with his hand around her throat even as he threatens to assign her with 'independent study.' She shakes her head slowly, teasingly as she regains the mental capacity to formulate words - to rally against her near loss. It's easier now, although she has to ignore the way his shadows pry her fists open, stealing away one of her previous desperate efforts for control. Swallowing stubbornly against the desire threatening to well up again, her voice comes out sultry and thick with suggestion. "I find that feeling the rhythm helps me more." As if she couldn't feel him through their layers of clothes, that she could barely feel 'him' at all.
Her tongue comes out to wet her lips before she drags a fang over them like she's begging for him to stay. "Maybe I can demonstrate?" There's a wicked gleam in her eyes that lays out the challenge. He'd had his turn, would he let her have hers? Or would he insist on maintaining control, slowly whittling away at her defenses?
Prideful determination rages to replace the lust, noting the way he doesn't fully pull away yet, lingering with his hand around her throat even as he threatens to assign her with 'independent study.' She shakes her head slowly, teasingly as she regains the mental capacity to formulate words - to rally against her near loss. It's easier now, although she has to ignore the way his shadows pry her fists open, stealing away one of her previous desperate efforts for control. Swallowing stubbornly against the desire threatening to well up again, her voice comes out sultry and thick with suggestion. "I find that feeling the rhythm helps me more." As if she couldn't feel him through their layers of clothes, that she could barely feel 'him' at all.
Her tongue comes out to wet her lips before she drags a fang over them like she's begging for him to stay. "Maybe I can demonstrate?" There's a wicked gleam in her eyes that lays out the challenge. He'd had his turn, would he let her have hers? Or would he insist on maintaining control, slowly whittling away at her defenses?
I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name
but everybody knows my name
Thalassa
