VESPER
Vesper’s smile widens into something wolfish and unrepentant, the kind that ought to come with a warning label. "Course I know it’ll take more than that," he says, voice thick with amusement and something quieter beneath it—something edged in fondness he’ll never name out loud. Not even to himself. But then he feels it: the shift. The flicker of her thoughts twisting like smoke, curling toward suspicion as the pieces begin to click. Her hand flies, her voice rises in mock offence, and the basket slams down between them like a gauntlet.
He laughs—genuinely, low and warm—shoulders hitching in a shrug that screams innocence even as the shadows slink off in retreat, a few crumbs clinging to their trailing ends. "Couldn’t be helped," he murmurs, eyes dancing. "Turns out I'm hungrier than I thought. Didn't quite get my fill before." And then, slower, more deliberate: "So I appreciate you sharin’." It’s an innocent sentence if you hear it wrong, but Vesper doubts if Colt will.
He reaches for a slice of fruit with one hand, and the other drifts lazily toward her again, curling back around her thigh like gravity never quite let him go. The stars overhead twinkle on, ignored, as her thoughts grow warm and full again, sparking between them like coals never fully banked.
They don’t speak of constellations the way Vesper had planned for them to, not with words, anyway, but the demigod will make sure that Colt has her fill of stars before the night is through.
~FIN
He laughs—genuinely, low and warm—shoulders hitching in a shrug that screams innocence even as the shadows slink off in retreat, a few crumbs clinging to their trailing ends. "Couldn’t be helped," he murmurs, eyes dancing. "Turns out I'm hungrier than I thought. Didn't quite get my fill before." And then, slower, more deliberate: "So I appreciate you sharin’." It’s an innocent sentence if you hear it wrong, but Vesper doubts if Colt will.
He reaches for a slice of fruit with one hand, and the other drifts lazily toward her again, curling back around her thigh like gravity never quite let him go. The stars overhead twinkle on, ignored, as her thoughts grow warm and full again, sparking between them like coals never fully banked.
They don’t speak of constellations the way Vesper had planned for them to, not with words, anyway, but the demigod will make sure that Colt has her fill of stars before the night is through.
~FIN
Will I ever quit playing with matches?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?
Why am I making angels in the ashes?
