COLT
You put the cool in the breeze
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away
You put the weak here in my knees
You put me right where I'm supposed to be
In your blue-eyed sea, and I wanna sail away
This is the problem—Colt rather likes a good storm.
Not necessarily the sort that rip your yard to hell and knock over half your house, although even that can all be repaired with enough effort and time. Just the kind that make you run for cover when you're out in the open, breathless with the race. The kind that make you wanna dance barefoot on the porch, soaked to the bone. The kind that keep you curled up, watching the world fall apart while you stay cozy. The kind that are shaped like him.
So when he answers all her thunder, back to the wall with him gathering on either side, it's impossible to keep from getting caught in it. The press of his hand at her hip is just one lightning strike among many, each nerve alive with static as it slides slow and sure towards her thigh. The kiss is no soft coaxing thing, not the whisper of a promise but the fulfillment of one they've each been whispering about. It hits like a summer storm breaking open, fierce and sudden, and for a moment she can’t do anything but be seized by it. Her fingers fist in his shirt, knuckles whitening against the fabric as if holding him closer might offer some shelter from it all. A low sound hums against his mouth, unbidden and shameless, her body answering him long before her head catches up.
When the swell of it subsides, she drags a breath in through her nose like she’s drowning and trying to remind herself which way is up. The sting of surprise that had collected in her lashes has since dried, the uneven stain of eyeliner in the corners of her eyes the only hint there'd been tears at all. That's the thing about warnings, if they appear too often, they just start to blend in with the background of everything. Even red fades.
Steadily her grip slackens on his shirt, palm splayed, not pushing, just catching herself on him as she tips her head back an inch to break the contact. Her smile comes slow and crooked, tugging more from habit than ease. "Y'know," her voice is low and uneven with the taste of him still lingering. "Most men don't complain about a cheap date." Then again, he's not like most of the men she's known. Still a little rough around the edges, sure, but sharp in ways she's less familiar with, more mind than mouth. Still, she can't imagine what's better than this. Beach-wrought sand or starlit walls in a tall tree, doesn't matter to her, she's only ever really needed him.
Her breath catches sharp when his fingers find the slit of her dress, a flicker of heat rushing through her so fast it feels like her pulse stumbles to keep up. She sags deeper into the wall, her thigh answering the graze of his fingers as it shifts under them, an unspoken invitation for more. The hand not splayed on his chest reaches out to grab hold of one of his front pockets, tugging him closer yet, needing him pressed in where the wall already can’t give.
Not necessarily the sort that rip your yard to hell and knock over half your house, although even that can all be repaired with enough effort and time. Just the kind that make you run for cover when you're out in the open, breathless with the race. The kind that make you wanna dance barefoot on the porch, soaked to the bone. The kind that keep you curled up, watching the world fall apart while you stay cozy. The kind that are shaped like him.
So when he answers all her thunder, back to the wall with him gathering on either side, it's impossible to keep from getting caught in it. The press of his hand at her hip is just one lightning strike among many, each nerve alive with static as it slides slow and sure towards her thigh. The kiss is no soft coaxing thing, not the whisper of a promise but the fulfillment of one they've each been whispering about. It hits like a summer storm breaking open, fierce and sudden, and for a moment she can’t do anything but be seized by it. Her fingers fist in his shirt, knuckles whitening against the fabric as if holding him closer might offer some shelter from it all. A low sound hums against his mouth, unbidden and shameless, her body answering him long before her head catches up.
When the swell of it subsides, she drags a breath in through her nose like she’s drowning and trying to remind herself which way is up. The sting of surprise that had collected in her lashes has since dried, the uneven stain of eyeliner in the corners of her eyes the only hint there'd been tears at all. That's the thing about warnings, if they appear too often, they just start to blend in with the background of everything. Even red fades.
Steadily her grip slackens on his shirt, palm splayed, not pushing, just catching herself on him as she tips her head back an inch to break the contact. Her smile comes slow and crooked, tugging more from habit than ease. "Y'know," her voice is low and uneven with the taste of him still lingering. "Most men don't complain about a cheap date." Then again, he's not like most of the men she's known. Still a little rough around the edges, sure, but sharp in ways she's less familiar with, more mind than mouth. Still, she can't imagine what's better than this. Beach-wrought sand or starlit walls in a tall tree, doesn't matter to her, she's only ever really needed him.
Her breath catches sharp when his fingers find the slit of her dress, a flicker of heat rushing through her so fast it feels like her pulse stumbles to keep up. She sags deeper into the wall, her thigh answering the graze of his fingers as it shifts under them, an unspoken invitation for more. The hand not splayed on his chest reaches out to grab hold of one of his front pockets, tugging him closer yet, needing him pressed in where the wall already can’t give.
You knock me out kiss by kiss
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again
I need you baby, sip by sip
Sit back and let me drink you in
I'm fallin' for you, over and over and over again
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
