VESPER
The echo of his name—rough, reverent—punches straight through him, severing the last thread of restraint that Vesper has. It isn’t just the heat curling through his spine or the breath that stutters against Mateo’s nape—it’s the way the botanist’s mind lights up beneath his own. All raw, aching surrender and sun-ripe need, tangled with words too frayed to finish. He feels it, drinks it in, lets it burn through him like a second skin.
"Fuck, Mateo—”" It’s half snarl, half sigh, his shadows twitching with overstimulation as he thrusts forward once more, possessive to the last. His climax hits hard and fast, white-out and all-consuming, a clean, blinding rupture that wipes his mind blank and drags a raw groan from somewhere low in his chest. Every nerve lights up like a fuse lit too close to the barrel, his hips locked tight against Mateo’s as his legs tremble with the force of it. For a breathless stretch, he’s nothing but sensation—tight skin, shallow breath, and the electric spasm of release that tears through his spine and lingers in his thighs.
He stays pressed close, shadows twitching in lazy aftershocks across both their bodies, the mirror fogged and blurred with the echoes of them. Then, against the curve of Mateo’s neck, Vesper lets out a low, uneven chuckle. "The shelves seem to be holdin’ just fine." His voice is hoarse, softened with satisfaction. He makes no move to straighten yet, his limbs still feeling both weightless and leaden. It isn't exactly intimate, there's no kisses pressed to the botanist's shoulder, but it isn't a pull-out and a slap on the ass, either.
"Fuck, Mateo—”" It’s half snarl, half sigh, his shadows twitching with overstimulation as he thrusts forward once more, possessive to the last. His climax hits hard and fast, white-out and all-consuming, a clean, blinding rupture that wipes his mind blank and drags a raw groan from somewhere low in his chest. Every nerve lights up like a fuse lit too close to the barrel, his hips locked tight against Mateo’s as his legs tremble with the force of it. For a breathless stretch, he’s nothing but sensation—tight skin, shallow breath, and the electric spasm of release that tears through his spine and lingers in his thighs.
He stays pressed close, shadows twitching in lazy aftershocks across both their bodies, the mirror fogged and blurred with the echoes of them. Then, against the curve of Mateo’s neck, Vesper lets out a low, uneven chuckle. "The shelves seem to be holdin’ just fine." His voice is hoarse, softened with satisfaction. He makes no move to straighten yet, his limbs still feeling both weightless and leaden. It isn't exactly intimate, there's no kisses pressed to the botanist's shoulder, but it isn't a pull-out and a slap on the ass, either.
wake me when it's over
like a bad dream
like a bad dream
☆ 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.
