VESPER
Colt shifts beneath him and the world rearranges. The weight of her thighs bracketing his hips, the glide of her breathless moans against his jaw, the rustle of blankets swallowing them whole, it all wraps around Vesper like an incantation, and he lets it claim him. There’s no room for restraint here, no virtue in patience. Not when her fingers are at his belt, not when her mouth is still pressed to his like it might devour the parts of him that won’t stay.
He leans hard into his elbow, spine bowed like a man in prayer, chasing her breath as if it might grant him absolution. Her hands are clumsy with urgency, but his shadows are not. They rise without instruction, obedient in their desire to keep him exactly where he is. They slip around her wrists, assiting her with ease as they begin to tug at the fabric that dares come between them, every dark wisp coaxing buttons and folds to part.
Rather than taking his hands from her to strip her of her pyjama bottoms, Vesper leaves that task to his shadows as well so that he might press his free palm to the line of her jaw, firm and unapologetic, dragging her mouth up to meet his with a low growl that vibrates all the way into his chest. "I want you," he says, and it’s more than just physical, more than skin against skin. He wants her in every selfish, impossible way. In the quiet spaces. In the hours no one else gets to see. In whatever version of life exists where wanting someone could make it so. If it could be that simple—if wanting her were enough—then maybe the sun wouldn’t have to rise on an empty bed again. But it’s never that simple.
His mouth finds hers again, not with grace but with force, like a crash of storm waves into cliffstone. All hunger and ache and quiet fury at the way the world works. His kiss steals breath, steals thought, as his shadows move faster now, tugging their pants lower in messy tandem, dark ribbons unweaving whatever barriers remain. She’s heat and want and wildfire beneath him, and gods, gods, he needs to feel all of her.
Clothes loosen. Air sharpens. And Vesper stays pressed to her, every shift of his hips deliberate, every kiss a vow he cannot speak aloud. He can’t promise forever—never has, never will—but tonight? Tonight, she has him completely.
He leans hard into his elbow, spine bowed like a man in prayer, chasing her breath as if it might grant him absolution. Her hands are clumsy with urgency, but his shadows are not. They rise without instruction, obedient in their desire to keep him exactly where he is. They slip around her wrists, assiting her with ease as they begin to tug at the fabric that dares come between them, every dark wisp coaxing buttons and folds to part.
Rather than taking his hands from her to strip her of her pyjama bottoms, Vesper leaves that task to his shadows as well so that he might press his free palm to the line of her jaw, firm and unapologetic, dragging her mouth up to meet his with a low growl that vibrates all the way into his chest. "I want you," he says, and it’s more than just physical, more than skin against skin. He wants her in every selfish, impossible way. In the quiet spaces. In the hours no one else gets to see. In whatever version of life exists where wanting someone could make it so. If it could be that simple—if wanting her were enough—then maybe the sun wouldn’t have to rise on an empty bed again. But it’s never that simple.
His mouth finds hers again, not with grace but with force, like a crash of storm waves into cliffstone. All hunger and ache and quiet fury at the way the world works. His kiss steals breath, steals thought, as his shadows move faster now, tugging their pants lower in messy tandem, dark ribbons unweaving whatever barriers remain. She’s heat and want and wildfire beneath him, and gods, gods, he needs to feel all of her.
Clothes loosen. Air sharpens. And Vesper stays pressed to her, every shift of his hips deliberate, every kiss a vow he cannot speak aloud. He can’t promise forever—never has, never will—but tonight? Tonight, she has him completely.
rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
☆ 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.
