I don't know what I'm looking for
Vesper lets Thal pin his wrists above his head, but knowing what he does, he doesn't intend to make it as easy for her to do as switching up their positions had been. His muscles tense under her grip, his fingers twitching against hers, like he might fight back, like he might flip them over again and remind her exactly who she’s playing with. But he doesn’t, for now, anyway. Instead, he relaxes beneath her, a slow, deliberate surrender, letting the power tip completely in her favour. Letting her feel the victory of it. Because gods, if this is how she plays when she wins, he’s more than happy to lose.
The first roll of her hips nearly undoes him. A sharp breath hisses through his teeth, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his arms straining beneath her grip as she drags herself against him. Even through the maddening barrier of fabric, he feels everything—every slow, deliberate grind, every torturous press of her against the aching hardness that’s only grown since the moment she’d pulled him down. The friction is exquisite, just enough to make his pulse hammer, to send a violent heat pooling low in his stomach, but not nearly enough to satisfy. He wants more.
And fuck, so does she. He can hear it in her mind, feel it in the way her breath shudders, in the low, wanton moans she lets slip between parted lips. The sound alone sends a fresh wave of heat curling through his blood, his hips bucking up in instinctive retaliation, pressing harder against the teasing grind of her body. His fingers flex beneath hers, his smirk long since wiped clean, replaced with something darker, hungrier. His gaze flickers, sharp and intent, tracking the way her chest rises and falls, the way she presses closer, teasing him with the curve of her body.
Vesper’s patience, razor-thin as it already was, frays further as Thalassa moves above him, her body a fucking masterpiece of temptation. He barely has time to register the press of her chest so close to his face before his instincts take over, before his magic responds to his hunger the way his hands can’t. His shadows slip forward, curling around the swell of her breasts, teasing at the exposed skin where her blouse dips low. The touch is a whisper of pressure, not nearly enough to satisfy him, not enough to feel the heat of her skin the way he craves, but fuck if it isn’t enough to make him desperate.
The cloak draped over her shoulders shifts, sliding away as his shadows brush it aside, baring more of her to him. They trail down her sides in slow, deliberate paths, slipping beneath the hem of her blouse, tracing along the taut muscles of her stomach before dipping even lower. The first button of her pants comes undone with nothing more than a flick of magic, then another, shadows working deftly at the fastening as his smirk returns.
The first roll of her hips nearly undoes him. A sharp breath hisses through his teeth, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his arms straining beneath her grip as she drags herself against him. Even through the maddening barrier of fabric, he feels everything—every slow, deliberate grind, every torturous press of her against the aching hardness that’s only grown since the moment she’d pulled him down. The friction is exquisite, just enough to make his pulse hammer, to send a violent heat pooling low in his stomach, but not nearly enough to satisfy. He wants more.
And fuck, so does she. He can hear it in her mind, feel it in the way her breath shudders, in the low, wanton moans she lets slip between parted lips. The sound alone sends a fresh wave of heat curling through his blood, his hips bucking up in instinctive retaliation, pressing harder against the teasing grind of her body. His fingers flex beneath hers, his smirk long since wiped clean, replaced with something darker, hungrier. His gaze flickers, sharp and intent, tracking the way her chest rises and falls, the way she presses closer, teasing him with the curve of her body.
Vesper’s patience, razor-thin as it already was, frays further as Thalassa moves above him, her body a fucking masterpiece of temptation. He barely has time to register the press of her chest so close to his face before his instincts take over, before his magic responds to his hunger the way his hands can’t. His shadows slip forward, curling around the swell of her breasts, teasing at the exposed skin where her blouse dips low. The touch is a whisper of pressure, not nearly enough to satisfy him, not enough to feel the heat of her skin the way he craves, but fuck if it isn’t enough to make him desperate.
The cloak draped over her shoulders shifts, sliding away as his shadows brush it aside, baring more of her to him. They trail down her sides in slow, deliberate paths, slipping beneath the hem of her blouse, tracing along the taut muscles of her stomach before dipping even lower. The first button of her pants comes undone with nothing more than a flick of magic, then another, shadows working deftly at the fastening as his smirk returns.
but I swear to God I'll find it
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
