[SE] hotline

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

Through the turmoil clouding her every thought and vision, Thal feels more than watches as Vesper lowers a knee between her legs, pushing past one of her external defenses without an ounce of effort. She'd thought she was already turned on, the simmering throughout her body screaming of the war for control against him, yet as his form looms over her and the shadows tighten more, every sense seems to heighten further, relishing in the way he makes her feel powerless and powerful at the same time. It begs her to give in, to bask in the pleasure, yet her stubborn mind persists, urging her to fight, to win the game. 

All the while, she stares up at him through hungry, blazing eyes, keeping her head and body carefully still to see where he might touch first. She expects another teasing finger, maybe a hand against her breast or another shadow lingering above her pant line - but suddenly he's everywhere, consuming her every thought and feeling in a flood of contact. Her breathing is fast and thready, teeth clenching it to a low hiss as she is immediately drowning in the touch. She thinks she can rally some semblance of resistance with the thin threads of control floating around her mind, and she reaches for them - 

And then his hips roll.

Thal curses him in her mind, wanting to blame him for the way her body thirsts after the contact, her spine arching as her hips press into the hard rock beneath, tail flicking sharply. Those threads of control slip away in the current, leaving her stranded with nothing but the burning desire and the feeling of his cock through their clothes. It makes her want to wrap them in flames just to strip away that last layer between them, even though it feels like her blood should be more than enough, boiling just beneath the surface. She is the fire. 

Without his needing to, her head pulls back further as if trying to gasp a breath between the tidal waves of suffocating lust, the smoke of her own yearning heat. But she finds no relief. When Vesper finally kisses her, she wants to growl against the delicate, gentle movements that drag her further under the surface, away from the control and teasing, towards something deeper and primal. The racing of her pulse pounds against the firm pressure of her throat, proving to both of them that she's losing the battle. Her resolve is slipping away, a low groan of frustration escaping her as her lips move in time with his - no longer following her own commands - and her traitorous body arches to press further into him - as close to begging as she's ever come.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper drinks in every flicker of surrender in Thalassa’s mind like the finest fucking wine. He savours the moment her resolve begins to fracture, when the war in her thoughts tilts in his favour. It’s in the way her spine arches, in the way her breath falters; fast, thready, desperate. It’s in the way her hips press into the rock beneath her, caught between unyielding stone and the deliberate, slow grind of his own.

Fuck. He could get drunk off this.

Her groan vibrates against his lips, frustration and hunger intertwined, and it makes something dark curl low in his gut. He deepens the kiss, but only slightly, coaxing, teasing, making her chase the friction she so clearly craves. His fingers tighten subtly against her throat, his shadows flexing where they hold her down, drinking in the way her pulse pounds wildly against his palm. "Another part of rhythm is havin' some place to go." His voice is low, a rumbling purr that brushes against her parted lips as he pulls back just enough to murmur against her mouth. "No way for a melody to last if it always starts out big," he adds, as if to justify the too-soft feel of his lips against hers.

And to prove his point, he rolls his hips again—slow, deliberate, a maddening friction of heat and pressure that leaves nothing to the imagination. The shadow at her hip tightens, flexes like fingers gripping, holding her firmly in place as if daring her to struggle even if they both know she won’t. His free hand abandons the stone beside her head, dragging down, rough calloused fingers trailing down her collarbone, over the curve of one breast. He moves unhurriedly, savouring every fucking second, every shiver, every tiny hitch in her breath, frustrated only by the fabric of the cloak she wears and how it was likely dulling the sensation of his thumb as it brushed over one nipple.

Vesper’s lips hover near the curve of her jaw, his voice smooth and lazy, the barest trace of amusement beneath the dark, simmering hunger. "With me so far?"

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

The slowly unraveling reigns of her control are slipping out of her grasp more with every touch, every second. A small piece of her remembers that there's a game to be won, but the deepening of his kiss is burying it beneath the swell of desire overwhelming her. Ever the stubborn, unyielding pirate, she clamps her fists tight to dig her nails into her palm, clinging to something her rather than the way Vesper is manipulating her every nerve fiber. It gives her enough clarity to alter the rhythm of their kiss, dragging away slightly with the tip of her fang, not enough to draw blood, but enough to remind him of the dangerous weapons she's honed, of the dangerous weapon she is. That she's only letting him do this, even if she doesn't want it to stop. 

As his lips hover over hers, she has to keep herself from gasping for breath to clear her head, to reorient herself and her goal. The delightful increasing of pressure around her vulnerable throat makes it hard, but Thal thinks she does a great job of denying herself the urge to reclaim his lips or hook her leg around him. She even bites at her own lip in an attempt to regain some of the ground she's obviously losing, like a tactical regrouping of her faculties. But that sound, the way his purring voice lulls like a dark melody has her eyelashes fluttering, her efforts already beginning to fail. 

And then he does that damned roll of his hips again, achingly slow to a point that makes her want to scream. The contact doesn't surprise her as much this time, and she's able to appreciate the growing bulge that presses against her, eliciting a soft intake of breath that moves straight to her core. She suddenly wishes again that she could burn both their clothes away to feel him more. Especially as his hand finally trails down to her ample chest, the fabric both adding and detracting from the sensation of his finger. It's near maddening, narrowing everything to that single bundle of nerves as he runs his thumb over it. She hisses through another sharp gasp, teeth clenching to combat the pleasure that ripples down her spine. 

Her nerves are singing a song all their own, begging for his movements to add the harmony. Yet his lips hover over her, not giving them what they so desperately want. So, unwilling to confirm or deny being 'with him,' and uncertain whether her voice will come out, Thal settles for a noncommittal hum that sounds suspiciously like a moan of 'not yet.'

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper loves this. Loves the war raging inside of the ancient, loves the way she fights herself just as much as she fights him. He hears the stubborn resistance still clinging to the edges of her mind, the frantic grasp for control even as her body betrays her, even as the tension in her breath turns from defiance to need. While he could continue to drag this out, could keep her pinned beneath him, keep her body thrumming with the slow, torturous pressure of his hands and shadows until she cracked, until she admitted what they both already knew, he doubts if that would be as satisfying as just letting her win. After all, not unlike his dear old dad, when it comes to sexual gratification, Vesper's magic makes him surprisingly generous.

The pirate's hum—low, suspiciously close to a moan, but still laced with defiance—makes something sharp twist inside of the demigod. Makes his restraint slip just enough for the smirk to flicker briefly into something darker, hungrier. His shadows tense as his breath catches, but he quickly reins it in. Instead, he shifts, pulling back just slightly, just enough to let the absence of him linger on her skin, a teasing phantom of where he’d been.

His fingers slide away from her chest, his hips cease their slow, deliberate grind, and the shadow gripping her hip eases its possessive hold. The only thing that remains is the steady pressure at her throat, his palm still flush against her rapid pulse to keep her eyes on his. "Hmm," he muses, feigning contemplation, arching a brow as his cool blue gaze flickers lazily over her flushed cheeks. "Not yet?" His smirk sharpens, his thumb brushing over her throat once before he begins to loosen his hold, as if he might actually move away. "Maybe some independent study would help. Give you a chance to practice on your own, see if you can get the rhythm down." Vesper pauses a moment, head tilting as he considers.

"Or maybe I should just go even slower?" His shadows break from around her wrists, instead flexing against her palm and the inside of her fingers in order to splay them against the stone.

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

Thal could have sworn his own resolve slipped for a moment, a glimpse behind the careful control he displayed; but she must have been mistaken, because Vesper is suddenly breaking nearly every point of contact. Each retreat of his fingers, shadows, and body feels bittersweet, stripping away the fuel that had been flaring her desire while cruelly returning some of her own senses to her. If she were weaker willed, she might have whimpered at the loss, her body still calling for him, but the way he so easily pulls away from the heat sparking between them makes her jealous, frustration rising to cover the tiny pang of fear that ripples in her mind. A fear of being discarded. It's brief yet strong before she's able to seal it back inside, guarded by the anger and self-confident swagger. She will not be toyed with like this.

Prideful determination rages to replace the lust, noting the way he doesn't fully pull away yet, lingering with his hand around her throat even as he threatens to assign her with 'independent study.' She shakes her head slowly, teasingly as she regains the mental capacity to formulate words - to rally against her near loss. It's easier now, although she has to ignore the way his shadows pry her fists open, stealing away one of her previous desperate efforts for control. Swallowing stubbornly against the desire threatening to well up again, her voice comes out sultry and thick with suggestion. "I find that feeling the rhythm helps me more." As if she couldn't feel him through their layers of clothes, that she could barely feel 'him' at all. 

Her tongue comes out to wet her lips before she drags a fang over them like she's begging for him to stay. "Maybe I can demonstrate?" There's a wicked gleam in her eyes that lays out the challenge. He'd had his turn, would he let her have hers? Or would he insist on maintaining control, slowly whittling away at her defenses?

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper inhales slow and deep, dragging air into his lungs like it might steady him, but they both fucking know it won’t. Not with the heat of her pressed flush against him, her body radiating warmth like the damn volcano they’re sprawled across. Not with the way her thighs still cradle the sharp press of his knee, the way her breath stutters in the small space between them, teasing the skin of his throat. Every point of contact is a fresh kind of torture—the way her hips shift ever so slightly beneath his, how the swell of her chest still brushes against him with every rapid inhale, the fucking impossible softness of her body against his own tension-wound restraint. It’s a fucking wonder he hasn’t snapped.

And then there’s her mind. The unguarded flare of it, the sharp spikes of hunger tangled with stubborn pride, the frustration barely masking her need. If she had less control, she’d be whining for him. If she had less pride, she’d be clawing him closer, rolling her hips just to make him groan, just to hear the crack in his voice when he finally broke. But she doesn’t. Instead, she licks her lips, drags her fangs across them in a way that makes his fingers twitch, makes his shadows coil like restless hands aching to close back around her. Fuck. She wants him to lose this game, wants to see him crack, and gods help him, he’s going to let her.

The edges of his smirk twitch, tightening into something sharper, more strained. His thumb presses just a fraction harder against her throat before retreating, slow and deliberate, feeling the heavy pulse of her desire beating against his palm. His shadows—possessive, teasing, a dark mirror of his own self-control—withdraw from where they’d held her wrists and hips, unraveling like smoke dissipating into the volcanic air. The loss of their grip is deliberate, a show of trust, of surrender, of something else entirely. He’s still caging her in, still braced above her, still close enough that he can feel the warmth of her breath, but there’s a shift in the game now, a deliberate slide of power between them. He’s no longer holding her down. He’s offering himself up.

"Demonstrate, huh?" His voice is thick, a lazy purr dragged rough at the edges by restraint, as his gaze flickers over her face, over the wicked gleam in her eyes. The way her fang drags over her lip like she’s already savoring her victory. And fuck, maybe she is. Maybe she deserves to.

Vesper tilts his head, his platinum hair catching in the shifting glow of the lava, framing the way his smirk softens into something even more dangerous—something fleetingly close to surrender. "Alright then," he drawls, shadows finally, fully pulling back, leaving nothing between them but heat and anticipation. "How d'you want me?" It’s an invitation, a challenge, and an admission all at once. Because fuck it, she wins. Let her take what she wants from him—he’ll enjoy every damn second of it.

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

Only moments ago, she'd been so close to breaking, clambering for an ounce of control that she finally regains - yet her body still sings of his touch. If Vesper had pushed just a little more, a little farther, she would have fallen apart completely. Part of her wishes he had, overpowering her every urge to resist until she exploded in pure ecstasy; but her competitive side relishes in the way he seems to accept defeat, the purr that accompanies his words thrumming though her pleasantly. Even as his hand and shadows retreat, she knows that it won't be for long, confident she can take his challenge.

There are so many ways Thal wants to answer - wants him: on top, rough, naked, moaning, buried in her; but she settles for a raise of her eyebrows, mischief sparking with the plans that coil like a serpent in her mind. Lifting her lips towards his, she hovers them like he's done to her so many times, voice breathy and seductive through the smirk she wears. "Let me show you."

Without warning (although Vesper will see it coming), she hooks her leg behind his, twisting so that she is suddenly straddling him, their positions switched along with their shifting power dynamic. It sends a shiver of excitement down her spine to simmer in her core - the one that already drips with lingering lust and growing anticipation. Bracing her hands flat against his abdomen, her breath hitches quietly as she settles gently over his waist. Thal's head falls back as her heat presses against him, hair tumbling down her back in wild waves that frame the dramatic lift of her chest. She takes a moment to appreciate how he feels beneath her, making her bite her lip against the instinct to grind her hips, and the groan that threatens to arise; instead, she leans forward to drag her lips over his, not kissing but teasing with a slow exhale of breath. Thal lets her tone purr with unbridled delight. "Do you need me to go slow? Or do you think you can keep up?" A gracious offer on her part, although the glowing blue of her eyes suggest it won't matter either way.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper lets her move him. He sees it coming, feels the sharp, coiling intent in her mind even before her body follows through, and he allows it—hell, welcomes it. When her leg hooks behind his and the world tilts, he goes down easy, the breath leaving him in a quiet grunt as his back meets the heated rock. He barely registers the bite of the stone, too busy drinking in the sensation of her settling over him, thighs bracketing his waist, heat pressing down against the ache already straining beneath his clothes.

His hands go to her instinctively, fingers sliding to grip the curve of her hips, thumbs pressing into soft skin through the fabric of her pants. He doesn’t help her move, doesn’t pull her down harder—no, cause that’d be too easy. Instead, he just holds, savouring the weight of her, the way her body fits against his. And no doubt she'll feel every inch of the effect she'd had on him thus far, no question about it as her core settles right over the proof of his arousal. It’s not even fucking fair, the advantage she has now, but he’s not about to start complaining now.

His smirk is sharp, predatory, even as she leans down, her breath teasing over his lips, her body a torturous fucking invitation above him. The shift in control, the delicious reversal of their game, sends a shiver of pleasure rolling through him, a slow flex of his fingers against her waist as he watches her. "That remains to be seen," he drawls, voice rough with restraint, though there's an unmistakable challenge woven through the lazy syllables. His gaze flickers, amused, burning, as his smirk deepens. "But I’m startin’ to think you never had trouble with those tongue twisters at all."

His hands finally move then, one slipping up her spine in a slow, possessive drag, the other shifting lower, fingers splaying over the curve of her ass to pull her that much more firmly against him. He tilts his head up, closing the minuscule distance between them, his lips grazing hers in a barely-there touch, teasing her the way she’s teased him. "I'm gonna make you pay for every second of this," he vows, voice nothing but a husky breath against her mouth.

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

The dark curtain of her hair spills around their hovering lips, shrinking the world to just the two of them and the way her eyes want to devour him whole. As his hands come to rest on her hips, Thal releases a deep, throaty chuckle. "Wouldn't you like to know." She nips playfully at his lips before his hands are bringing her closer into him, the tightening of his fingers making her bite the inside of her cheek.

Her spine tingles delightfully at his words, a shiver that reignites every nerve with a vengeance and a pooling heat. Her own breath comes out raspy with promise through the fanged grin on her lips. "I'm counting on it." Since that's been her entire objective since the beginning - after winning, of course. With that out of the way... it's all play at this point. 

And then - just because she can - Thal pulls his hands away from her hips, lifting them above his head as he'd done to her. Let him feel what it's like to be toyed with, teased until he can't think straight. She links her hands with his as she presses them against the stone, a teasing grin playing across her lips as she shifts her hips slowly. Her eyes flutter closed along with the strategically low moan she lets out, enjoying every inch she can feel through their clothes and how it's all because of her. 

Unlike Vesper, she doesn't stop at one, grinding against him at a torturously slow repetitive rate, the friction not enough to do more than frustrate the both of them. Thal lets out small groans at the tantalizing sensation, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the movement of her hips to press her cleavage closer to his face. Meanwhile, she stares down at him, the fire in her eyes eating up his every response, focusing in on his lips like she might just reach for them amidst it all.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper lets Thal pin his wrists above his head, but knowing what he does, he doesn't intend to make it as easy for her to do as switching up their positions had been. His muscles tense under her grip, his fingers twitching against hers, like he might fight back, like he might flip them over again and remind her exactly who she’s playing with. But he doesn’t, for now, anyway. Instead, he relaxes beneath her, a slow, deliberate surrender, letting the power tip completely in her favour. Letting her feel the victory of it. Because gods, if this is how she plays when she wins, he’s more than happy to lose.

The first roll of her hips nearly undoes him. A sharp breath hisses through his teeth, his jaw tightening, the muscles in his arms straining beneath her grip as she drags herself against him. Even through the maddening barrier of fabric, he feels everything—every slow, deliberate grind, every torturous press of her against the aching hardness that’s only grown since the moment she’d pulled him down. The friction is exquisite, just enough to make his pulse hammer, to send a violent heat pooling low in his stomach, but not nearly enough to satisfy. He wants more.

And fuck, so does she. He can hear it in her mind, feel it in the way her breath shudders, in the low, wanton moans she lets slip between parted lips. The sound alone sends a fresh wave of heat curling through his blood, his hips bucking up in instinctive retaliation, pressing harder against the teasing grind of her body. His fingers flex beneath hers, his smirk long since wiped clean, replaced with something darker, hungrier. His gaze flickers, sharp and intent, tracking the way her chest rises and falls, the way she presses closer, teasing him with the curve of her body.

Vesper’s patience, razor-thin as it already was, frays further as Thalassa moves above him, her body a fucking masterpiece of temptation. He barely has time to register the press of her chest so close to his face before his instincts take over, before his magic responds to his hunger the way his hands can’t. His shadows slip forward, curling around the swell of her breasts, teasing at the exposed skin where her blouse dips low. The touch is a whisper of pressure, not nearly enough to satisfy him, not enough to feel the heat of her skin the way he craves, but fuck if it isn’t enough to make him desperate.

The cloak draped over her shoulders shifts, sliding away as his shadows brush it aside, baring more of her to him. They trail down her sides in slow, deliberate paths, slipping beneath the hem of her blouse, tracing along the taut muscles of her stomach before dipping even lower. The first button of her pants comes undone with nothing more than a flick of magic, then another, shadows working deftly at the fastening as his smirk returns.

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

She feels every flex and relaxation of his muscles, relishing in the way he gives in to her, lets her 'demonstrate' exactly what she knows about the careful game of rhythm and seduction that sing through her body. The buck of his hips makes her want to chuckle proudly at the reaction, at what she's able to do to him, at how he can't hide the truth of his desire in the growing bulge she feels - but her own body washes the humor from her as it tries to combust in a shiver of pleasure. Her hands tighten against him, her movements stuttering for a moment, regretful only of the layers between them. She groans, looking into his sharpening eyes with lids half-closed over the dark blue that shows the willpower it takes not to give in just yet, to resume the slow grind of her hips. 

When she feels the pressure of his shadows along her chest, Thal takes a deep breath, stretching the fabric of her blouse like it might trade his shadow hands for the real deal. Yet they don't stop there, traveling lower to the opening of her pants. The anticipation coils low in her abdomen, wanting desperately to be released from the suffocating depths. His accompanying smirk makes her want to melt, to relinquish her power over him in a flash of weakness.

Jealous of his ability to strip her down with nothing more than his shadows and a slant of his lips, Thal adjusts her grasp on his hands to free one of her own. She leans forward as her fingers trail down to his face, neck, chest. At first, as her face lowers, it looks like she might go in for a kiss, her breath mixing with his in raspy exhales like steam from the desire boiling in her; but at the last second, she tilts her head, bypassing his lips to brush her own against his neck. The pulsing of his heart makes her smirk, even as she knows hers is racing just as quickly. While her fingers deftly unclasp the buttons of his shirt, the rest of her works to be every kind of distraction and object of seduction that might make him finally crack - her hips continue their slow grind, her chest hangs tempting over him, her sounds are low and needy, and her mouth... 

Thal kisses gently, sweetly to his exposed neck, a disarmingly soft contrast to all the fire burning within, urging him to let his guard down and let her work. Yet, the moment he might consider doing so, she nicks her fangs on his artery, feeling the skin beneath threaten to puncture around their sharp tips. Dark, violent thoughts arise, but she's too invested in the end goal to let anything else derail her - she wants Vesper to lose his cool, to lose that careful control she can feel slipping away from them both. So, with another grind of her hips, Thal drags her fangs down his neck with just enough pressure to hurt pleasantly, reminding him of who's currently in control and what she might do to him. It isn't until the last button of his shirt comes undone that she runs her soothing, teasing tongue over the mark her fangs leave behind. At the same moment, she pushes the linen away and presses her body flush against his, letting him feel the small window of skin his shadows have revealed, letting him feel the heat that the incorporeal appendages can't as she grinds against him. Her blood simmers at the contact, a hum of delight vibrating through the lips she still holds hostage over his throat, begging him to break, to take what she dangles over him.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper doesn’t stand a chance.

Not when he can hear the pirate's thoughts, not when he can feel every ounce of her victory thrumming through her bloodstream, weaving through her wicked fucking grin as she moves above him, as she reduces him to nothing but aching, agonized want. His pulse is a drumbeat beneath her lips, a violent rhythm that matches the heat curling low in his gut, the slow, torturous grind of her hips against his own. His control, already razor-thin, begins to unravel completely the moment her fangs scrape over his neck, dragging over sensitive skin in a way that sends a violent shudder rolling through him.

He clenches his teeth, fingers twitching beneath her grasp, every muscle in his body wound taut beneath the slow, deliberate torment she’s inflicting on him. He likes this—likes being at her mercy, likes the way she wields her victory like a blade, pressing into him, carving herself into the space between his ribs and setting fire to every fucking nerve ending along the way. The scrape of her fangs is enough to drive him to the edge, then as she licks over the sting she left behind, soothes the bite with a flick of her tongue, Vesper snaps.

His shadows dissolve, abandoning their teasing caresses and reforming into something far less patient, less careful. They grip, rough and hungry, curling around her waist, her thighs, dragging her down hard against him. His hands, no longer pinned, find their way to her body, palms sliding up the length of her back before fisting into her hair, yanking her head back just enough to force her gaze to his. His smirk is gone. Whatever amusement he’d been holding onto is wiped clean, replaced by something darker, something needy. His breath is ragged, his chest rising and falling with a restraint that’s all but shattered now. "You win," he growls, voice thick, rough with defeat and lust, but his grip on her remains firm, his fingers tightening in her hair as he tilts his head up, lips brushing against hers with a promise that is anything but gentle.

And then he takes.

The kiss is nothing like before—nothing like the teasing, slow torture he’d inflicted on her earlier. It’s all teeth and tongue, all heat and desperation, all pent-up need spilling over in a violent, uncontrollable crash. He devours her, his free hand dragging down her spine, pressing her flush against him as he rolls his hips up in retaliation, a deliberate grind that leaves nothing between them but thin layers of cloth and a hunger too fucking wild to contain any longer. His thumb brushes over her jaw, his grip on her hair shifting just enough to deepen the kiss, to steal whatever breath she has left. If she wanted him to break, to surrender, then fine—he’ll fucking break. But he’s dragging her down with him.

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

Silver dollar, golden flame
Dirty water, poison rain
Perfect murder, take your aim

She relishes the way he tightens and twitches beneath her, not having to be a telepath to know what effect she's having on him - and she loves every second of it. Loves the way he shudders like a final death throw before snapping. It's exactly what she's been wanting, needing from him. The rough shadows and rougher hands, the pull at her hair, his eyes. There's a darkness there that speaks of unseen consequences for her actions, at having pushed him past the point of no return. Thal nearly combusts right there.  

A deep, guttural groan pushes past her lips from the pressure against her pants, the one he forces her to feel as he seals her hips against his with the delicious vice-grip of his shadows. The smile on her lips disappears, replaced by a look of pure pleasure laced with victory. Her back arches like she might attempt to escape what she knows is coming, but then his hands are on her, the skin-to-skin contact like a branding after being starved of it for so long. The rough pull at her hair tugs at the primal heat pooling deep inside, a loose string beginning to unravel the thread-bare container of her desire. She doesn't register - doesn't care - that he's free of her hold, soft gasps and fluttering eyes drinking in the sensations, wanting more to pull her deeper under the surface. And when he finally claims her lips, it's as if she's falling into that abyss all over again, the crashing of a wave ripping away the control she'd desperately been grasping for. 

But this time, she doesn't want it. 

Because she's already won, and she's ready to give whatever Vesper is wiling to take - since she wants to take just as much. The anticipation has built too far, the playfulness exchanged for blinding desire. He tries to devour her and she does the same, forgoing oxygen for the liquid lust on his lips. It's almost as powerful as her bloodlust, making Thal reach deeper into their kiss to satisfy the craving on her tongue like she might with a fresh kill, but it's still not enough and she moans in near-desperation as the roll of his hips show what she really needs. Her hands reach around his back, grasping like she might bring him closer, melting the layers of fabric between them. When that doesn't work, she moves them lower, hastily working at the buttons of his pants as her hips roll instinctually, no longer teasing or slow, overpowered by the burning emptiness that needs to be filled.

I don't belong to anyone,
but everybody knows my name

Thalassa

I don't know what I'm looking for

Vesper’s breath is ragged, his control shattered, his body wound so fucking tight it’s agonizing. Thalassa is everywhere—her scent, her heat, the desperate grind of her hips as she drags herself over him, reducing him to nothing but hunger and raw need. His shadows slip away from teasing, from restraint, shifting into something more primal, more urgent. They obey his desires as if they have minds of their own, slipping beneath fabric, working buttons and laces loose with impatient precision.

His own hands aren’t nearly as patient. The moment her pants begin to slide lower, his palms replace the shadows, shoving them down past the curve of her hips, baring more of her inch by torturous inch. His fingers dig into newly exposed skin, kneading, claiming, mapping out the places he’s been aching to touch. She’s soft and warm beneath his hands, and fuck but it’s still not enough.

His breath catches as her hands fumble at his waist, further pulling at the fabric still keeping them apart. The moment his pants are undone, relief crashes through him like a violent tide, his cock finally freed from its confines, heavy and aching, pressing against her inner thigh. The bare press of her skin against him, the sharp contrast of heat and need, makes his head begin to spin.

His mouth finds her throat again, this time with more purpose, more force, lips parting against the curve of her pulse, teeth scraping, tongue soothing. "Go on then," he growls, his voice rough, wrecked, vibrating against her skin. His grip tightens at her hips, dragging her closer, aligning her against the desperate pulse of him, pressing in, teasing, taunting, just on the edge of giving them both what they want but still drawing it out, letting this final victory be hers to claim.

but I swear to God I'll find it

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3