I'm just a cherub riding comets through the night sky
Vesper doesn’t stop kissing her until his lungs start clawing for air, and even then, it’s reluctant—like peeling himself back from something he knows he’ll never get enough of. When he finally does surface for breath, it’s ragged and hot against her skin, his forehead resting against hers as he twists, dragging them both sideways with him.
One hip hits the sand with a graceless thump, but it doesn’t matter. His arms are already wrapping tighter, making sure she comes with him, follows him down—not in surrender, but in that shared kind of falling that goes hand in hand with endless stretches of white-sand beaches and too little clothing.
He exhales as his back meets the sand, shadows curling beneath him like a pillow. Then his hands move; one carves up her thigh, slow and firm and greedy, fingers skating over the ridges of muscle built from years in a saddle and pulling her weight on the ranch. The other traces up the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the line of wet cotton with the care of a man learning every inch not for leverage—but worship.
If she thought he was waiting, that hers was the only insistent mind between them, surely the press of his palms, the confident glide of his hands as they map her out like a coastline he means to memorize, says otherwise. Says he’s not just rising to her hunger—he’s matching it, feeding it, stoking it higher with every pass.
Against her lips, still breathless, he manages a low, curling smirk. "Yeah, I said that, but you're too good of a rider to fall." He brushes his nose against hers, his grin half-feral and too full of want. " ’Sides—" his fingers tighten on her thigh, drawing her in tighter, until there’s no distance left to spare— "you don’t seem like the kind of woman who wears heels anyway."
One hip hits the sand with a graceless thump, but it doesn’t matter. His arms are already wrapping tighter, making sure she comes with him, follows him down—not in surrender, but in that shared kind of falling that goes hand in hand with endless stretches of white-sand beaches and too little clothing.
He exhales as his back meets the sand, shadows curling beneath him like a pillow. Then his hands move; one carves up her thigh, slow and firm and greedy, fingers skating over the ridges of muscle built from years in a saddle and pulling her weight on the ranch. The other traces up the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the line of wet cotton with the care of a man learning every inch not for leverage—but worship.
If she thought he was waiting, that hers was the only insistent mind between them, surely the press of his palms, the confident glide of his hands as they map her out like a coastline he means to memorize, says otherwise. Says he’s not just rising to her hunger—he’s matching it, feeding it, stoking it higher with every pass.
Against her lips, still breathless, he manages a low, curling smirk. "Yeah, I said that, but you're too good of a rider to fall." He brushes his nose against hers, his grin half-feral and too full of want. " ’Sides—" his fingers tighten on her thigh, drawing her in tighter, until there’s no distance left to spare— "you don’t seem like the kind of woman who wears heels anyway."
VESPER
☆ 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.
