I'm just a cherub riding comets through the night sky
The aftershocks still ripple through Vesper like constellations shivering out of alignment—his body spent, his mind caught in the warm undertow of Colt’s thoughts. Her pleasure echoes in his skull like thunder, and he doesn’t even try to shield himself from it. Why would he? It’s holy. Raw. A storm crashing through her, the kind he wants to drown in again and again.
She melts beside him and it feels like gravity’s finally let go. For a second, everything stills—the hush between crashing waves, the lull in the tide. He barely notices the salt biting at his skin or the stick of sand along his back. All that matters is the thrum of her next to him. Her hand still on him. Her breath still catching. And then her voice cuts through the haze like a breeze through summer sweat, and he tips his head toward her, blinking slow and lazy like he’s just returned from someplace far. The sly grin that spreads across his mouth is all moonlight and trouble.
"Dunno, but it ain’t over yet," he murmurs, voice still hoarse, still full of embers.
Before she can ask what that means, he rolls toward her, an arm slipping around her waist. He kisses her again—languid, unhurried—but it’s not her lips he’s aiming for this time. He trails down her jaw, the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her throat. His fingers ghost up the curve of her ribs to brush against the soft swell of her breasts, reverent and teasing all at once, before his mouth follows suit—pressing a kiss between them, just above the line of her bra, tongue tasting the sea-slick heat of her skin.
He doesn't stop. One hand curls beneath her hip, the other sliding her underwear down with a flicker of shadow that’s too gentle to be obscene, too purposeful to be anything but a promise. His lips find the edge of her belly, grazing downward with agonizing care. And then he pauses—only long enough to drag his teeth lightly, wickedly, across the inside of her thigh.
"I want to taste you," he says low, his voice so velvet-smooth it nearly disappears into the crashing surf behind them. And then his mouth is on her—tongue slow at first, the lightest pressure between her thighs, like he’s memorizing her pulse, before pressing into the heat of her. Inhaling sharply, he presses up in one long, deliberate stroke until the tip of his tongue ends far too softly against her clit.
She melts beside him and it feels like gravity’s finally let go. For a second, everything stills—the hush between crashing waves, the lull in the tide. He barely notices the salt biting at his skin or the stick of sand along his back. All that matters is the thrum of her next to him. Her hand still on him. Her breath still catching. And then her voice cuts through the haze like a breeze through summer sweat, and he tips his head toward her, blinking slow and lazy like he’s just returned from someplace far. The sly grin that spreads across his mouth is all moonlight and trouble.
"Dunno, but it ain’t over yet," he murmurs, voice still hoarse, still full of embers.
Before she can ask what that means, he rolls toward her, an arm slipping around her waist. He kisses her again—languid, unhurried—but it’s not her lips he’s aiming for this time. He trails down her jaw, the corner of her mouth, the hollow of her throat. His fingers ghost up the curve of her ribs to brush against the soft swell of her breasts, reverent and teasing all at once, before his mouth follows suit—pressing a kiss between them, just above the line of her bra, tongue tasting the sea-slick heat of her skin.
He doesn't stop. One hand curls beneath her hip, the other sliding her underwear down with a flicker of shadow that’s too gentle to be obscene, too purposeful to be anything but a promise. His lips find the edge of her belly, grazing downward with agonizing care. And then he pauses—only long enough to drag his teeth lightly, wickedly, across the inside of her thigh.
"I want to taste you," he says low, his voice so velvet-smooth it nearly disappears into the crashing surf behind them. And then his mouth is on her—tongue slow at first, the lightest pressure between her thighs, like he’s memorizing her pulse, before pressing into the heat of her. Inhaling sharply, he presses up in one long, deliberate stroke until the tip of his tongue ends far too softly against her clit.
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.
