VESPER
Vesper lets Mateo’s quip slide past with a low, breathless chuckle, his teeth dragging softly along the corner of the botanist’s jaw as he shifts to grant him room. Shadows slip away just enough to let that belt fall, but they linger like hungry things—curling at Mateo’s waist, brushing against the soft underside of his thighs as if they too, want a taste.
He doesn’t need to press for access when Mateo’s hands are already busy. Instead, Vesper slides one palm beneath the thin linen of his shirt, splaying his fingers wide across the smooth heat of the botanist's torso. He maps him like a constellation—thumb grazing the sharp line of a rib, the gentle dip of a waist. His other hand remains buried in Mateo’s curls, anchoring him there while his mouth devours the sounds he draws out.
There’s something intoxicating in the lack of resistance—in how easily their minds and bodies fall into rhythm without preamble. Vesper pulls from the heat-thick current of Mateo’s thoughts, guided by every flicker of arousal, every memory-turned-fantasy he stumbles across like treasure half-buried in velvet. When Mateo rolls his hips, Vesper hisses through his teeth, jaw flexing as his grip tightens in the curls at the base of the botanist’s skull. "Fuck," he breathes against his throat, his voice hoarse with want. His shadows—obedient to nothing but desire—slither higher, slipping open Mateo’s pants. They work with silent ease, parting fabric and tugging loose fastenings until nothing’s in the way but time.
He doesn’t need to press for access when Mateo’s hands are already busy. Instead, Vesper slides one palm beneath the thin linen of his shirt, splaying his fingers wide across the smooth heat of the botanist's torso. He maps him like a constellation—thumb grazing the sharp line of a rib, the gentle dip of a waist. His other hand remains buried in Mateo’s curls, anchoring him there while his mouth devours the sounds he draws out.
There’s something intoxicating in the lack of resistance—in how easily their minds and bodies fall into rhythm without preamble. Vesper pulls from the heat-thick current of Mateo’s thoughts, guided by every flicker of arousal, every memory-turned-fantasy he stumbles across like treasure half-buried in velvet. When Mateo rolls his hips, Vesper hisses through his teeth, jaw flexing as his grip tightens in the curls at the base of the botanist’s skull. "Fuck," he breathes against his throat, his voice hoarse with want. His shadows—obedient to nothing but desire—slither higher, slipping open Mateo’s pants. They work with silent ease, parting fabric and tugging loose fastenings until nothing’s in the way but time.
wake me when it's over
like a bad dream
like a bad dream
☆ 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.
