I need you like god needs the devil, honey
Vesper’s breath stutters as Mateo sinks down around him, the sudden heat and pressure drawing a fractured sound from deep in his chest. The pleasure hits like a crashing wave; bright, hot, and all-consuming. Every sensation is heightened by the snapdragon coursing through his system, his body reduced to a nerve-lit map of touch and tension, and Mateo... gods, Mateo is at the centre like a conductor.
"Fuck," Vesper gasps, the word little more than a growl as his hands tighten reflexively on the botanist’s hips. He doesn’t thrust—not yet—but the ache to move is nearly unbearable. Mateo feels like molten honey around him, each slow grind of his hips sending a delicious drag of friction that shoots through Vesper’s spine like lightning. His back arches, jaw clenching, and he tries—fails—not to let his head tip back again with the sheer overwhelm of it.
Fingertips dig into skin, greedy and reverent both, tracing the tense ripple of muscle along Mateo’s thighs. His mouth is parted, breath shallow, every nerve singing with the burn of connection. Under the snapdragon’s flush, the colours of sensation shift and bloom behind his eyes—scarlet and gold, opalescent streaks of want that pulse with each roll of Mateo’s hips.
"You feel—" Vesper tries, but the words fall apart on his tongue, replaced with a groan that escapes unbidden as Mateo grinds down again. His shadows pulse at the edges of the room, curling like smoke from the walls, responding to his frayed control, to the magnetic pull of the man above him. "—gods, Mateo," he murmurs finally, voice wrecked with arousal, hands sliding up from Mateo’s hips to his waist, his ribs, mapping every inch like a starving cartographer. One of his palms settles against the botanist’s back, the other tangling again in his hair to draw him down, to take another kiss—this one slow, open-mouthed, drug-slick and devastating.co
"Fuck," Vesper gasps, the word little more than a growl as his hands tighten reflexively on the botanist’s hips. He doesn’t thrust—not yet—but the ache to move is nearly unbearable. Mateo feels like molten honey around him, each slow grind of his hips sending a delicious drag of friction that shoots through Vesper’s spine like lightning. His back arches, jaw clenching, and he tries—fails—not to let his head tip back again with the sheer overwhelm of it.
Fingertips dig into skin, greedy and reverent both, tracing the tense ripple of muscle along Mateo’s thighs. His mouth is parted, breath shallow, every nerve singing with the burn of connection. Under the snapdragon’s flush, the colours of sensation shift and bloom behind his eyes—scarlet and gold, opalescent streaks of want that pulse with each roll of Mateo’s hips.
"You feel—" Vesper tries, but the words fall apart on his tongue, replaced with a groan that escapes unbidden as Mateo grinds down again. His shadows pulse at the edges of the room, curling like smoke from the walls, responding to his frayed control, to the magnetic pull of the man above him. "—gods, Mateo," he murmurs finally, voice wrecked with arousal, hands sliding up from Mateo’s hips to his waist, his ribs, mapping every inch like a starving cartographer. One of his palms settles against the botanist’s back, the other tangling again in his hair to draw him down, to take another kiss—this one slow, open-mouthed, drug-slick and devastating.co
someday soon this dust's gonna settle
☆ 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.
