when I walk in a room, I can still make the whole place shimmer
Charlie lets her head tip back into the cradle of his grip, her throat arching in a line of surrender that’s anything but passive. The curl of his fingers at her hip earns a languid roll of her body into the touch, her silks whispering against his skin. In the firelight, she drinks him in—the ruin of his clothes, the sin-easy curve of his mouth, the pale blaze of his eyes framed in those maddening curls. When he draws her closer, the answering spark in her own blue gaze is equal parts lust and mischief, a private toast to the trouble they’re about to cause. One brow lifts, slow and deliberate, the gesture a wordless seal of approval.
"Your desire to worship," she murmurs, her voice low and velvet-dark, "is all I need."
And then—gone. A flicker of movement too quick for the fire to catch, the rush of magic in her blood, and she’s no longer in front of him but in his arms. Using her dart! this way is a trick honed to an art, perfected in the company of taller Ancients; she sweeps her arms around Pann's neck and locks her legs at his waist before gravity even has a chance to try and reclaim her.
The moment she’s there, she claims him; her mouth finding his in a kiss that steals and gives in the same breath. It’s deep and unapologetic, her lips parting to let her tongue stroke and taste like she’s breathing life back into him, each pass deliberate and consuming. Her body presses tight to his, molten heat and silk-wrapped sin, as if she intends to make good on every promise she’s ever purred; her kiss the first hymn in a liturgy meant for him alone.
"Your desire to worship," she murmurs, her voice low and velvet-dark, "is all I need."
And then—gone. A flicker of movement too quick for the fire to catch, the rush of magic in her blood, and she’s no longer in front of him but in his arms. Using her dart! this way is a trick honed to an art, perfected in the company of taller Ancients; she sweeps her arms around Pann's neck and locks her legs at his waist before gravity even has a chance to try and reclaim her.
The moment she’s there, she claims him; her mouth finding his in a kiss that steals and gives in the same breath. It’s deep and unapologetic, her lips parting to let her tongue stroke and taste like she’s breathing life back into him, each pass deliberate and consuming. Her body presses tight to his, molten heat and silk-wrapped sin, as if she intends to make good on every promise she’s ever purred; her kiss the first hymn in a liturgy meant for him alone.
.
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
