I'm just a cherub riding comets through the night sky
He's going to die out here; that’s the only conclusion Vesper can draw, laid out on the sand, Colt’s hair wrapped like a silken noose around his fist, her mouth a fire he’ll gladly burn in. Her eyes flash up just before her lips wrap around him, and gods he almost comes undone from the look alone. The smug, wicked promise of it. The slow satisfaction that coils through her like she already knows how easily she's about to take him down.
He hisses in a breath, head tipping back as pleasure rakes through him like tide against reef, hard and relentless. His fingers flex in her hair, a moan caught between his teeth as the first wave hits. But then it begins to change, if only slightly. Her focus shifts: The crisp, perfect edge of her mind starts to fuzz at the borders as things like breathing, about whether or not there's sand on her palm begin to infringe on the blur of arousal he'd been previously treated to. Such was the burden of a telepath, you see; there's no letting his mind drift, no imagining anyone or anything else.
Vesper exhales sharply, not in frustration, but intent, and his shadows obey. They unfurl from beneath his back like dark silk, cool and untextured, slipping over the hot curve of her thighs where they press against sand. They don’t grip or grab, but glide—barely-there pressure, a memory of touch—before one trails down, dipping between her legs to gently press against the last barrier she’s wearing. Featherlight, maddening, meant to tease her thoughts back toward something that will send sheet lightning flashing across the fringes of his magic.
"Don’t stop," he rasps, shadows pressing against her just enough to echo the grip he wishes he had. "Fuck, don't stop."
He hisses in a breath, head tipping back as pleasure rakes through him like tide against reef, hard and relentless. His fingers flex in her hair, a moan caught between his teeth as the first wave hits. But then it begins to change, if only slightly. Her focus shifts: The crisp, perfect edge of her mind starts to fuzz at the borders as things like breathing, about whether or not there's sand on her palm begin to infringe on the blur of arousal he'd been previously treated to. Such was the burden of a telepath, you see; there's no letting his mind drift, no imagining anyone or anything else.
Vesper exhales sharply, not in frustration, but intent, and his shadows obey. They unfurl from beneath his back like dark silk, cool and untextured, slipping over the hot curve of her thighs where they press against sand. They don’t grip or grab, but glide—barely-there pressure, a memory of touch—before one trails down, dipping between her legs to gently press against the last barrier she’s wearing. Featherlight, maddening, meant to tease her thoughts back toward something that will send sheet lightning flashing across the fringes of his magic.
"Don’t stop," he rasps, shadows pressing against her just enough to echo the grip he wishes he had. "Fuck, don't stop."
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.
