I don't know what I'm looking for
Vesper’s breath is ragged, his control shattered, his body wound so fucking tight it’s agonizing. Thalassa is everywhere—her scent, her heat, the desperate grind of her hips as she drags herself over him, reducing him to nothing but hunger and raw need. His shadows slip away from teasing, from restraint, shifting into something more primal, more urgent. They obey his desires as if they have minds of their own, slipping beneath fabric, working buttons and laces loose with impatient precision.
His own hands aren’t nearly as patient. The moment her pants begin to slide lower, his palms replace the shadows, shoving them down past the curve of her hips, baring more of her inch by torturous inch. His fingers dig into newly exposed skin, kneading, claiming, mapping out the places he’s been aching to touch. She’s soft and warm beneath his hands, and fuck but it’s still not enough.
His breath catches as her hands fumble at his waist, further pulling at the fabric still keeping them apart. The moment his pants are undone, relief crashes through him like a violent tide, his cock finally freed from its confines, heavy and aching, pressing against her inner thigh. The bare press of her skin against him, the sharp contrast of heat and need, makes his head begin to spin.
His mouth finds her throat again, this time with more purpose, more force, lips parting against the curve of her pulse, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. "Go on then," he growls, his voice rough, wrecked, vibrating against her skin. His grip tightens at her hips, dragging her closer, aligning her against the desperate pulse of him, pressing in, teasing, taunting, just on the edge of giving them both what they want but still drawing it out, letting this final victory be hers to claim.
His own hands aren’t nearly as patient. The moment her pants begin to slide lower, his palms replace the shadows, shoving them down past the curve of her hips, baring more of her inch by torturous inch. His fingers dig into newly exposed skin, kneading, claiming, mapping out the places he’s been aching to touch. She’s soft and warm beneath his hands, and fuck but it’s still not enough.
His breath catches as her hands fumble at his waist, further pulling at the fabric still keeping them apart. The moment his pants are undone, relief crashes through him like a violent tide, his cock finally freed from its confines, heavy and aching, pressing against her inner thigh. The bare press of her skin against him, the sharp contrast of heat and need, makes his head begin to spin.
His mouth finds her throat again, this time with more purpose, more force, lips parting against the curve of her pulse, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. "Go on then," he growls, his voice rough, wrecked, vibrating against her skin. His grip tightens at her hips, dragging her closer, aligning her against the desperate pulse of him, pressing in, teasing, taunting, just on the edge of giving them both what they want but still drawing it out, letting this final victory be hers to claim.
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.
