COLT
I've been sleeping wide awake
Slow dancing 'round the cracks in the floorboards
Fighting myself while lying in a
Bed I made and can't ignore
Slow dancing 'round the cracks in the floorboards
Fighting myself while lying in a
Bed I made and can't ignore
Her hands only still briefly when the addition of his own, darker grip finds them. She falls into the mindless guidance of them, more than happy to leave such matters to him if it'd happen that much faster. "Always so helpful, midnight," she murmurs, one of the names she's kept for him in her mind slipping free as her thoughts have already shifted back to more important matters. Such as the route his actual hands are taking and the way they drag against her like a match, or the impossible way she's still craving more of his mouth, uncertain when it'll be enough.
The firm request of his grip is one she heeds without resistance, pliant as warm butter in his hands as her chin tilts up. Expecting the hard press of his desire, the one that's been colliding with her through every kiss, she's instead struck by a vicious sound. It rumbles into every part of her, pitched low enough that his voice shakes into her marrow, and in three words, she's ruined.
Her gasp is shaky, as torn things trying to work again tend to be, but it's enough breath to whisper back a secret, "you have me." In this moment, and well before it. In ways she never meant to give, and regardless of how willingly he'd return them, she's lost them just the same. Right now, at least, she offers everything purposefully. It's all she can do to have anything remaining to survive him with, though maybe she doesn't intend to.
The brutal rain of his affection is a torrent that carves into her, and she means to replace every piece with one she takes off him, until there's nothing left of Colt or Vesper, it just becomes a sea of them. Her hands have abandoned the task of freeing him, but she claims him with a warm wrap of her fingers the moment he's released, her other hand fastening around his neck like a noose holding him to this inevitable demise. Her palm glides down the rigidity of his shaft, the pulse of heat she can feel there echoing up through the rest of her like a fever.
Every time, it feels like she might wither on the spot without his touch. It's as if she's been trying to flourish amid a drought, only realizing her thirst once the blooms that have unfurled in pretend can finally do so in earnest with him. "Fuck me," she groans, and it's less command than curse as her hand pushes the point of his head between her thighs, hips rolling into the friction with a tremble.
The firm request of his grip is one she heeds without resistance, pliant as warm butter in his hands as her chin tilts up. Expecting the hard press of his desire, the one that's been colliding with her through every kiss, she's instead struck by a vicious sound. It rumbles into every part of her, pitched low enough that his voice shakes into her marrow, and in three words, she's ruined.
Her gasp is shaky, as torn things trying to work again tend to be, but it's enough breath to whisper back a secret, "you have me." In this moment, and well before it. In ways she never meant to give, and regardless of how willingly he'd return them, she's lost them just the same. Right now, at least, she offers everything purposefully. It's all she can do to have anything remaining to survive him with, though maybe she doesn't intend to.
The brutal rain of his affection is a torrent that carves into her, and she means to replace every piece with one she takes off him, until there's nothing left of Colt or Vesper, it just becomes a sea of them. Her hands have abandoned the task of freeing him, but she claims him with a warm wrap of her fingers the moment he's released, her other hand fastening around his neck like a noose holding him to this inevitable demise. Her palm glides down the rigidity of his shaft, the pulse of heat she can feel there echoing up through the rest of her like a fever.
Every time, it feels like she might wither on the spot without his touch. It's as if she's been trying to flourish amid a drought, only realizing her thirst once the blooms that have unfurled in pretend can finally do so in earnest with him. "Fuck me," she groans, and it's less command than curse as her hand pushes the point of his head between her thighs, hips rolling into the friction with a tremble.
I'm tired of running from the conversations
Screaming in the silence, all alone
I'm frustrated, I can't take it
But I'll fake it, then I'll hate myself again
Screaming in the silence, all alone
I'm frustrated, I can't take it
But I'll fake it, then I'll hate myself again
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.
