KAISEL
So, you wanna start a war?
Bang, shots fired
Bang, shots fired
As her fingers wind deeper into his hair, something inside him tightens, drawing every thread of his attention taut until he feels no sturdier than a cord looped neatly around her hand. She needs only tug hard enough to pull him apart entirely. The touch tips his head back into it, the start of a sound turning over itself, low in his throat. It's cut short, drawn back with a sharp intake of breath that the movement of her hips against him demands. One hand plummets from its cup of her chest, sinking firmly to the curve of her waist with a grip that's forgotten gentleness for the sake of greed, striving to keep the pressure of her against him.
It takes him a moment to work his jaw around something more comprehensible than the dazzle of colors bleeding into him, each shade of want darkening his own. "Given our parents will be in attendance," he considers with a wry twist to his lips, "we definitely can't have that." A simpler thing to say than all the rest—that the idea of sharing her in any manner even close to this rankles a heart that has grown hopelessly selfish for its match.
Maroon flecks off through their connection as if the edges of his control are peeling away beneath any contact with her. "During the wedding, absolutely not," he agreed with a murmur. "I was planning to be rather rude to you after the wedding though." In a small demonstration of what he means, his fingers pinch the nipple available to him, the harm swiftly followed with a light, slow brush of his thumbpad, the movement entirely apologetic as much as it is coaxing.
Following the guide of her hand without resistance, he only has a moment to glimpse the glint of sunlight in water that is her gaze before he is drawn in the seal of her mouth, and there, as always, he finds his true place at last. Somewhere between laughter and the way she fits into his hands, he's forgotten entirely what the rest of the world is supposed to feel like. Caging her against the eager return of his kiss, the hand at her hip slides down the inner length of one thigh, curling back up and slipping his thumb under the remaining fabric.
It takes him a moment to work his jaw around something more comprehensible than the dazzle of colors bleeding into him, each shade of want darkening his own. "Given our parents will be in attendance," he considers with a wry twist to his lips, "we definitely can't have that." A simpler thing to say than all the rest—that the idea of sharing her in any manner even close to this rankles a heart that has grown hopelessly selfish for its match.
Maroon flecks off through their connection as if the edges of his control are peeling away beneath any contact with her. "During the wedding, absolutely not," he agreed with a murmur. "I was planning to be rather rude to you after the wedding though." In a small demonstration of what he means, his fingers pinch the nipple available to him, the harm swiftly followed with a light, slow brush of his thumbpad, the movement entirely apologetic as much as it is coaxing.
Following the guide of her hand without resistance, he only has a moment to glimpse the glint of sunlight in water that is her gaze before he is drawn in the seal of her mouth, and there, as always, he finds his true place at last. Somewhere between laughter and the way she fits into his hands, he's forgotten entirely what the rest of the world is supposed to feel like. Caging her against the eager return of his kiss, the hand at her hip slides down the inner length of one thigh, curling back up and slipping his thumb under the remaining fabric.
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
