COLT
Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell
Mumurs rise up slow and quiet in response to each tattoo of affection he marks with his lips. Invisible ink only, but she can feel them settle and sink in, lingering even as he's moved on. It sends something fluttering in her chest. She has never known care like this. Even in the best of times, she can't recall ever being held so thoroughly while she's broken apart, and then with the same attentive hands, put back together like she's something precious worth keeping. Each time she's with him, even the ones that don't end like this, Vesper dismantles a little bit more of what she thought she knew about a considerate man. He's already entirely ruined her ideas of good sex.
"Ves," she sighs, his name alone spoken like praise. Her voice is still rich with the deep satisfaction he granted, an unsteady sound above the raw that cuts in every so often, worn from every sound of ecstasy he cultivated. "Shit, you're better at getting me off than me." She laughs faintly, disbelief more than anything, half breathless with wonder. A smile eases in behind it, warm as a cat lying in the sun.
The steady eclipse of him is one she watches from hooded eyes, expectant. Each rise of his breath over her body blows against the embers he left behind, fresh sparks dragging beneath the shadow of him. When he stops to loiter at her chest, her fingers slide lazily into his hair, carding through it a few times in unspoken adoration before curling in and tugging him up. She needs that damn mouth. "I wanna make you feel good," she croons, gaze melting into him with assurance that she can. Her legs lift back around either side of him, corraling him closer.
She aches for all of him, not entirely fulfilled without having him in full. More than that though, she wants to make him incoherent with release. It's not about unlacing everything he keeps so knitted up, although she's ever curious about the feral thing lurking just beneath the seams. It's about taking every one of his troubles between her thighs and bearing down until they crumble, until all he can feel is her, and the rest of the world and its weight is gone. She can't keep them from him entirely, but she can give him time. Enough to relax to sink into her, to pretend for a while like this is all that matters and that he doesn't need to be anything more than her's.
"Ves," she sighs, his name alone spoken like praise. Her voice is still rich with the deep satisfaction he granted, an unsteady sound above the raw that cuts in every so often, worn from every sound of ecstasy he cultivated. "Shit, you're better at getting me off than me." She laughs faintly, disbelief more than anything, half breathless with wonder. A smile eases in behind it, warm as a cat lying in the sun.
The steady eclipse of him is one she watches from hooded eyes, expectant. Each rise of his breath over her body blows against the embers he left behind, fresh sparks dragging beneath the shadow of him. When he stops to loiter at her chest, her fingers slide lazily into his hair, carding through it a few times in unspoken adoration before curling in and tugging him up. She needs that damn mouth. "I wanna make you feel good," she croons, gaze melting into him with assurance that she can. Her legs lift back around either side of him, corraling him closer.
She aches for all of him, not entirely fulfilled without having him in full. More than that though, she wants to make him incoherent with release. It's not about unlacing everything he keeps so knitted up, although she's ever curious about the feral thing lurking just beneath the seams. It's about taking every one of his troubles between her thighs and bearing down until they crumble, until all he can feel is her, and the rest of the world and its weight is gone. She can't keep them from him entirely, but she can give him time. Enough to relax to sink into her, to pretend for a while like this is all that matters and that he doesn't need to be anything more than her's.
I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it
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.
