if you try and chase the sun you're never gonna catch it
Vesper doesn’t answer her question right away—not out loud. He hears it in her voice, sees it in her body, feels it in the electric press of her thoughts as they skim like fire across his own. Her words curl in his ears like smoke, but it’s the look in her eyes—mirrored in glass and moonlight—that decides everything.
His hands rise to her waist, thumbs pressing slow, deliberate circles against her skin as he dips his head—not reverent, but devout in his own wicked way. The hem of her shirt lifts further with the shift of her arms, and Vesper drags his mouth along the newly revealed skin just beneath her ribs. A slow, open-mouthed kiss that’s more heat than softness. Another, lower, teeth grazing just enough to make her breath catch. His fingers flex, coaxing her hips closer to the ivy-wrapped mirror behind her until there’s no space left between them.
"Take your clothes off," he murmurs, the command soft and sharp all at once, like the edge of a knife wrapped in velvet. His voice coils low in his throat, rich with the knowledge of what he’s about to do and exactly how she’ll look doing it.
He moves without waiting, sinking down to the moss-soft ground, positioning himself on his back. His shadows stretch lazily around him, curling like smoke in the underbrush, and he settles facing away from the mirror—toward her, always toward her—so that when she climbs astride him, the mirror will catch all of it. Every flicker of movement. Every flush of pleasure. Every ounce of power she holds above him.
The ivy rustles softly as he stretches out beneath her, hands folding behind his head for a moment like he’s lounging. Waiting. Inviting. "Then come here," he says, gaze raking up her legs, heat simmering behind every word. His mouth curves, lazy and wicked, as he tips his chin back. "I’ll handle the rest."
His hands rise to her waist, thumbs pressing slow, deliberate circles against her skin as he dips his head—not reverent, but devout in his own wicked way. The hem of her shirt lifts further with the shift of her arms, and Vesper drags his mouth along the newly revealed skin just beneath her ribs. A slow, open-mouthed kiss that’s more heat than softness. Another, lower, teeth grazing just enough to make her breath catch. His fingers flex, coaxing her hips closer to the ivy-wrapped mirror behind her until there’s no space left between them.
"Take your clothes off," he murmurs, the command soft and sharp all at once, like the edge of a knife wrapped in velvet. His voice coils low in his throat, rich with the knowledge of what he’s about to do and exactly how she’ll look doing it.
He moves without waiting, sinking down to the moss-soft ground, positioning himself on his back. His shadows stretch lazily around him, curling like smoke in the underbrush, and he settles facing away from the mirror—toward her, always toward her—so that when she climbs astride him, the mirror will catch all of it. Every flicker of movement. Every flush of pleasure. Every ounce of power she holds above him.
The ivy rustles softly as he stretches out beneath her, hands folding behind his head for a moment like he’s lounging. Waiting. Inviting. "Then come here," he says, gaze raking up her legs, heat simmering behind every word. His mouth curves, lazy and wicked, as he tips his chin back. "I’ll handle the rest."
And now it's turning out to be the worst of my bad habits
☆ 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.
