KAISEL
So, you wanna start a war?
Bang, shots fired
Bang, shots fired
The necklace of her arms around him has always been his favorite sort of jewelry, and he'd wear her lips to match whenever he can. The chance of it now makes everything between them shine, and he doesn't credit a single glimmer to the liquid starlight slipping over their skin. It's entirely because of her.
All the things he'd meant to steal are handed over with an intensity that leaves him the one robbed instead. The quiet little sound she breathes into his mouth, all warmth and want, catches somewhere deep beneath his ribs and fans outward until he can't remember what cold ever felt like. Halo disappears. The spring surrounding them becomes almost laughably lukewarm beside the heat she pours into him, and all he knows is the press of her, the taste of her, the way she always makes him feel as though every part of him has just come alive for the first time.
The space between them remains narrow, but in sharp contrast, all the motion of a moment ago is compressed into the stillness of a lingering look and uneven breath. All the urgency that had chased the kiss gathers itself and folds into their pulse, as if pretending it could fit there, attempting to pass for something small and quiet even as the opposite steadily takes shape against the border of her thighs. Beneath the gentle brush of her lips that she trades for his voice, a smile ripples out, and all the absurd containment races out with it. "Good point," he concedes, voice roughened by what little breath she's left him with. "I do enjoy unwrapping you," he murmurs, thumb already catching beneath one of the gilded straps.
No longer content to merely trace them, one strap surrenders to the decisive tug of his fingers, slipping from her shoulder in a smooth motion that suggests there'd never been much fight in the fabric to begin with. The newly bared skin of her chest greets his palm, a low groan of appreciation easing from his throat at the sight, unable to resist the view each and every time. The heel of his hand glides firmly against her breast, rolling her nipple beneath each curve of his finger, the small spread of space between them a feigned relief from the touch before the next one catches on it. Every caress only seems to awaken another, his other hand sliding up her side and slipping beneath what remains covered, his restraint unraveling with the same ease as her bikini.
All the things he'd meant to steal are handed over with an intensity that leaves him the one robbed instead. The quiet little sound she breathes into his mouth, all warmth and want, catches somewhere deep beneath his ribs and fans outward until he can't remember what cold ever felt like. Halo disappears. The spring surrounding them becomes almost laughably lukewarm beside the heat she pours into him, and all he knows is the press of her, the taste of her, the way she always makes him feel as though every part of him has just come alive for the first time.
The space between them remains narrow, but in sharp contrast, all the motion of a moment ago is compressed into the stillness of a lingering look and uneven breath. All the urgency that had chased the kiss gathers itself and folds into their pulse, as if pretending it could fit there, attempting to pass for something small and quiet even as the opposite steadily takes shape against the border of her thighs. Beneath the gentle brush of her lips that she trades for his voice, a smile ripples out, and all the absurd containment races out with it. "Good point," he concedes, voice roughened by what little breath she's left him with. "I do enjoy unwrapping you," he murmurs, thumb already catching beneath one of the gilded straps.
No longer content to merely trace them, one strap surrenders to the decisive tug of his fingers, slipping from her shoulder in a smooth motion that suggests there'd never been much fight in the fabric to begin with. The newly bared skin of her chest greets his palm, a low groan of appreciation easing from his throat at the sight, unable to resist the view each and every time. The heel of his hand glides firmly against her breast, rolling her nipple beneath each curve of his finger, the small spread of space between them a feigned relief from the touch before the next one catches on it. Every caress only seems to awaken another, his other hand sliding up her side and slipping beneath what remains covered, his restraint unraveling with the same ease as her bikini.
Pain is what you desire
So, you wanna be immortal?
So, you wanna be immortal?
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
