just because the fog is there
Gods, but she burns him alive. Every pulse of Colt's thoughts deepens the ache already spreading low and heavy through his body, sinking like molten lead into his belly. His mind, usually cool and precise, is unravelled by the way her desire keeps echoing louder than reason. As her hand closes around his erection, it punches the air from his lungs; a choked sound, sharp and bitten off, breaks from his mouth like something involuntary. One of his hands slips from her hip, curls into a fist, and slams hard into the counter, a violent anchor against the rising tide of want.
"Fuck," he hisses into her skin, his breath torn and hot against her throat, lips dragging open and snarled where they press to her. His hips rock once, a short and punishing thrust into her grip, and it nearly undoes him. His shadows, already flickering hungrily around his shoulders, snake around her back and unfasten her bra. As it falls away, he buries his face in the soft warmth between her breasts, breath stuttering there as if the scent of her alone could undo every scrap of restraint left to him. She wants him, and gods, she doesn’t hold it back in her mind. Every thought, every pulse of pleasure, every curl of hunger licks up through him like fire on oil.
He’s so fucking close to losing the thread of control completely that when he pulls back, it’s with a frustrated, desperate sound, guttural in his throat. He steps away just far enough for breath and action lest he find himself unwilling to in a way which would cut this disappointingly short. His shadows press firm but careful against Colt's shoulders, guiding her to recline against the island, while others gather below, soft and cool as silk beneath her spine.
"Gods damnit, Colt," he mutters darkly, voice barely human with the heat roughening it. The shadows that had so gently pressed at her shoulders slither downward with sudden command, coiling around her wrists like cuffs. They move with purpose, curling forward to the far edge of the island where they anchor her arms in place, stretched out like a prize already offered. A feast laid bare, just for him. His clever fingers hook hard into the waistband of her jeans and yank them down, shadows holding her tight as the denim catches on her hips, thighs, and knees before he tosses them to the floor. Vesper's breath is ragged now, eyes drinking her in with a look so darkly starved it borders on reverence. Blue blazes as he stares at her, and his jaw tightens with restraint, a subtle feathering of muscle that betrays how close he is to devouring her whole.
Then he does.
His hands sweep up beneath her thighs, lifting them easily onto his shoulders as he steps forward and leans down. One hand supports her lower back, dragging her to him with almost feral strength, and without hesitation, he presses his mouth to her. The groan that escapes him is raw and unabashed as his tongue plunges into her, claiming the soft, slick heat of her core like it’s the first breath after drowning. He hums his approval low and deep, vibrations curling through her as his tongue moves—upward now, swirling firm and relentless around her clit—his fingers digging possessively into the curve of her hips to keep her where he wants her. There’s no patience left in him, no prelude or pause—just hunger, worship, and the wildfire rush of Colt’s thoughts in his mind, blurring the edges of his own until he isn’t sure where her pleasure ends and his begins.
"Fuck," he hisses into her skin, his breath torn and hot against her throat, lips dragging open and snarled where they press to her. His hips rock once, a short and punishing thrust into her grip, and it nearly undoes him. His shadows, already flickering hungrily around his shoulders, snake around her back and unfasten her bra. As it falls away, he buries his face in the soft warmth between her breasts, breath stuttering there as if the scent of her alone could undo every scrap of restraint left to him. She wants him, and gods, she doesn’t hold it back in her mind. Every thought, every pulse of pleasure, every curl of hunger licks up through him like fire on oil.
He’s so fucking close to losing the thread of control completely that when he pulls back, it’s with a frustrated, desperate sound, guttural in his throat. He steps away just far enough for breath and action lest he find himself unwilling to in a way which would cut this disappointingly short. His shadows press firm but careful against Colt's shoulders, guiding her to recline against the island, while others gather below, soft and cool as silk beneath her spine.
"Gods damnit, Colt," he mutters darkly, voice barely human with the heat roughening it. The shadows that had so gently pressed at her shoulders slither downward with sudden command, coiling around her wrists like cuffs. They move with purpose, curling forward to the far edge of the island where they anchor her arms in place, stretched out like a prize already offered. A feast laid bare, just for him. His clever fingers hook hard into the waistband of her jeans and yank them down, shadows holding her tight as the denim catches on her hips, thighs, and knees before he tosses them to the floor. Vesper's breath is ragged now, eyes drinking her in with a look so darkly starved it borders on reverence. Blue blazes as he stares at her, and his jaw tightens with restraint, a subtle feathering of muscle that betrays how close he is to devouring her whole.
Then he does.
His hands sweep up beneath her thighs, lifting them easily onto his shoulders as he steps forward and leans down. One hand supports her lower back, dragging her to him with almost feral strength, and without hesitation, he presses his mouth to her. The groan that escapes him is raw and unabashed as his tongue plunges into her, claiming the soft, slick heat of her core like it’s the first breath after drowning. He hums his approval low and deep, vibrations curling through her as his tongue moves—upward now, swirling firm and relentless around her clit—his fingers digging possessively into the curve of her hips to keep her where he wants her. There’s no patience left in him, no prelude or pause—just hunger, worship, and the wildfire rush of Colt’s thoughts in his mind, blurring the edges of his own until he isn’t sure where her pleasure ends and his begins.
don't mean nothing's behind it
☆ 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.
