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
She doesn't mind being cheap. Expensive isn't always better, sometimes it's just a scam, leaving you all the more hollow for falling for it. She knows though, that her world is small, that she's built familiarity into all her days and loneliness into all her nights purposefully to avoid the surprise that comes along otherwise. It's simple, but it's known, and it's enough. It had been, anyway, until she got some wild idea to do more, to want more. A rodeo. A star-touched man.
All the better to bury questions she doesn't really want the answer to under a breath-stealing kiss. To erase the chill of lingering ghosts with the heat of the present that he drags against her with the slightest graze of his fingers. This is familiar. A fire that burns clean through all her thoughts and leaves nothing but the best feelings behind. Seems Thorn had been wrong. The cure hadn't someone else, it's more of him.
And gods, if this isn't her favorite way to have him, getting to undo all the easy carefulness he's built up until he's just as raw as she is.
Whatever smart remark she might’ve been readying dies the moment he lifts her, the sudden shift pulling a startled gasp out of her that melts into something richer but no less breathless as her back hits the wall. He makes it seem effortless, like she belongs right there against him, and that unravels her more than the press of his hips does, though that’s quick to stealing every thought she’s got left. Her legs hook around his waist without hesitation, dress slipping higher as she settles against him, heels kicking off with the disturbance into a clatter on the floor. It's reminiscent of another time, when they'd been too ragged and tangled to find any solace in the connection, but there's none of that lingering now.
Her fingers slide into his hair, one sweeping through the strands before fisting onto it as if holding on might help her keep steady, though steady’s long past gone. The kiss drags it further from her reach—deeper, hotter, until all she can do is answer it with a hungry sound of her own, muffled against his mouth.
Her head tips back against the wall, her chest rising hard against his. “You're right, this is better,’” she manages, voice rougher than she means as it murmurs against the corner of his mouth, teasing lilt fraying at the edges. One of her hands slides to his jaw, thumb brushing along the sharp line of his cheekbone in a touch more tender than she intends. It lingers a beat too long before slipping down to the edge of his pants, fingers working to remove the remaining barrier. “I think the time for holding onto pants is over,” she croons. Her legs tighten around his waist, pulling him into her, begging for something closer, deeper, chasing the feel of him against her with an unthinking urgency.
All the better to bury questions she doesn't really want the answer to under a breath-stealing kiss. To erase the chill of lingering ghosts with the heat of the present that he drags against her with the slightest graze of his fingers. This is familiar. A fire that burns clean through all her thoughts and leaves nothing but the best feelings behind. Seems Thorn had been wrong. The cure hadn't someone else, it's more of him.
And gods, if this isn't her favorite way to have him, getting to undo all the easy carefulness he's built up until he's just as raw as she is.
Whatever smart remark she might’ve been readying dies the moment he lifts her, the sudden shift pulling a startled gasp out of her that melts into something richer but no less breathless as her back hits the wall. He makes it seem effortless, like she belongs right there against him, and that unravels her more than the press of his hips does, though that’s quick to stealing every thought she’s got left. Her legs hook around his waist without hesitation, dress slipping higher as she settles against him, heels kicking off with the disturbance into a clatter on the floor. It's reminiscent of another time, when they'd been too ragged and tangled to find any solace in the connection, but there's none of that lingering now.
Her fingers slide into his hair, one sweeping through the strands before fisting onto it as if holding on might help her keep steady, though steady’s long past gone. The kiss drags it further from her reach—deeper, hotter, until all she can do is answer it with a hungry sound of her own, muffled against his mouth.
Her head tips back against the wall, her chest rising hard against his. “You're right, this is better,’” she manages, voice rougher than she means as it murmurs against the corner of his mouth, teasing lilt fraying at the edges. One of her hands slides to his jaw, thumb brushing along the sharp line of his cheekbone in a touch more tender than she intends. It lingers a beat too long before slipping down to the edge of his pants, fingers working to remove the remaining barrier. “I think the time for holding onto pants is over,” she croons. Her legs tighten around his waist, pulling him into her, begging for something closer, deeper, chasing the feel of him against her with an unthinking urgency.
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.
