someday soon this dust's gonna settle

just because the fog is there

Vesper’s not usually the type to get caught in physical hunger, not when minds are so much richer, more nuanced, more layered than any kiss or caress could ever hope to be. But when Colt kisses him like that—when she fists his shirt like she means to keep him, when her fingers knot in his hair like she belongs there, when her lips drag more than just breath from him—it takes on a different weight. He sinks into it, every inch of him answering the hunger in hers. Not just letting her take him, meeting it and letting it deepen.

And then she pulls away like they’ve done something reckless under watchful eyes, hands in her pockets and cheeks flushed like someone trying to remember propriety. He doesn’t stop watching her even as she tries to resituate herself in the moment. 

Her question earns nothing from him but a wolfish, dark smile, one that curls slow across his face and lingers in his eyes far longer than it should. By the time she’s turned and gone inside, Vesper has to clear his throat roughly and shift his stance, adjusting his pants with a quiet scoff of amusement. Bad influence? Gods, he fucking hopes so.

Inside, she makes the tactical decision to put the island between them, but unfortunately for her, he already knows what she’s imagined about this counter. And because her mind is always too loud and too delicious, his gaze locks on her with that same quiet intensity as before, but this time it sharpens. Predatory. Star-slick. "It certainly does," he murmurs, voice low and dark, but it’s not the steak he’s looking at.

Three long strides carry him around the barrier, and before she can even breathe in a proper protest, his hands find her waist. She’s lifted cleanly onto the island she just tried to use as refuge, and his mouth is on hers before she can recover. There’s no pause this time. Just a full, claiming kiss; deep and insistent, star-warm and searing at once. One hand slides to her lower back, untucking her shirt with practiced ease, palm smoothing beneath it to press against bare skin. His fingers splay again in that same familiar starburst, as if he could ground her there, centre her around his gravity. The other hand braces her hip, pulling her forward, flush to him, so that when he steps in, there’s no room for air between them.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

She can see it on his face before he's in motion, that the kiss is lingering with him too in all the best ways. Not because he's blushing or breathless, but because he's sharper, letting an edge he normally hides poke through. It's the sort of look that could get a girl in trouble if she isn't careful, especially with that voice hot on its heels, drenched in meaning that isn't just the smoke of talk but the heat of action behind it.

As he moves, she doesn't attempt to circle around the island. Running from him is a rather pointless exercise in her experience, not the least of which is because of how she carries him in her mind, but she also just simply doesn't want to. She does try to toss one last, half-hearted attempt at waiting, starting to cry out about the steaks. Before the sound is even given form though, it pulls back into her chest as a gasp as she's lifted and placed, and even that noise is forced to change, mumbling into silence under his lips.

There could be a living cow in her kitchen now and it wouldn't matter, not when he's got her like this. Everything has a habit of falling away to his touch, leaving just him—she especially can't remember why the fuck patience had been a good idea at all. Her arms loop against the back of his neck instantly, holding him like she won't permit a break this time. As his hand finds her lower back, she arches around the touch, each brush of his fingers there sending a tingle against her skin.

Gods, the way he just lifted her up here and now tugs her forward, it sends an immediate heat to her belly. For all the ways she has to stand strong so often, nothing undoes her so thoroughly as being handled like it's nothing. A soft noise is exhaled into him as he fits against her hips. In response her legs wrap around him, pinning him to her, demanding even more removal of space. Closer, she needs him closer.

Her hands abandon their grip on his neck now that she's got him locked with her legs. They drop to his chest, running down the length to his waistband. Unrelenting with her tongue and lips, she works by feel alone to gather the bottom of his shirt, thumbs hooking into the hem and pulling up as her fingers skim up either side of him.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it

just because the fog is there

Colt doesn’t just pull him in with her hands or the arch of her hips or the wrap of her legs; she drags him in through the current of her thoughts. He can feel everything he does to her mirrored back into his own skin, like every kiss is passed twice over: once from his mouth, and then again through hers, burning brighter on the return trip. Her thoughts aren’t quiet, they never are, and tonight, gods, they’re feral. It’s that, more than anything, that makes him clutch her tighter.

Vesper's hand fans wide against her back again, this time not in affection but possession, dragging her forward against the hard line of his body. The other traces the curve of her spine up and into her hair, tugging loose the braid without care, fingers knotting through the strands as if to anchor himself to her. She’s fire wrapped in skin, and every part of her is pulling him under.

The soft cotton of her shirt is barely an obstacle—he’s already untucked it, and now he tears the rest off in a rough, hungry motion—only retreating as much as necessary to peel it up and off of her. His eyes don’t even get a chance to linger on the view before he’s kissing her again like a man pulled under by the tide. There’s nothing sweet in it now; only teeth and want, and the way he groans low into her mouth says exactly how far that hunger reaches.

Her fingers work at his belt and gods does he want to feel her free him—but every part of him is coiled too tightly to stay still. His hips push forward even as his mind reasons with restraint. "Food’ll be fine if we leave it a while," he growls roughly into the corner of her mouth, voice dark with heat and barely-restrained need, "but I won’t." He kisses her again before she can reply, all molten starfire and darkness as his hands start to roam again, intent on baring as much of her as he can without losing his mind in the process.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

In moments like this, he can have every part of her. Something about the heat of it seals up the cracks, holds them and the sharper pieces that've broken off together, and she feels whole enough again to belong to him. If she can't trust herself, she can at least trust him—with plenty, but especially with this.

The splay of his hands, holding her, taking her, releasing her—it makes each kiss more wild, as though his touch isn't feeding her but showing her just how starved she is. Her chest presses against him, nipples rising at the friction, as his hand bows her spine to its ascent. The tightening of his fingers in her hair, pulling just enough that her head tips back slightly with the pressure, it's an echo of the tug she's feeling grow taut in her core.

The obstruction of her shirt's removal is quick but intrusive, and when they reconnect she means to make up for lost time as her fingers trace the edges of his jaw, his throat, his chest, mouth insistent on keeping his. Her hands drop back to his belt, and it's effort to keep hold of it as he continues to pull her in, each new sink of his waistline between her thighs like flint on stone, sparking through her.

"I don't fucking care about the food," she pants, all pretense of it mattering stripped from her. She tilts away for a moment, catching breath after the sound of his need burned through all of hers. Her teeth roam intermittently against his neck as she gathers her air back, using this time to glance down at her hands, guiding them properly towards freeing him in full. She wishes she was more of a dress girl for moments like this. "I just want you, Ves," she groans, her hands claiming the prize of his arousal.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it

just because the fog is there

Gods, but she burns him alive. Every pulse of Colt's thoughts deepens the ache already spreading low and heavy through his body, sinking like molten lead into his belly. His mind, usually cool and precise, is unravelled by the way her desire keeps echoing louder than reason. As her hand closes around his erection, it punches the air from his lungs; a choked sound, sharp and bitten off, breaks from his mouth like something involuntary. One of his hands slips from her hip, curls into a fist, and slams hard into the counter, a violent anchor against the rising tide of want.

"Fuck," he hisses into her skin, his breath torn and hot against her throat, lips dragging open and snarled where they press to her. His hips rock once, a short and punishing thrust into her grip, and it nearly undoes him. His shadows, already flickering hungrily around his shoulders, snake around her back and unfasten her bra. As it falls away, he buries his face in the soft warmth between her breasts, breath stuttering there as if the scent of her alone could undo every scrap of restraint left to him. She wants him, and gods, she doesn’t hold it back in her mind. Every thought, every pulse of pleasure, every curl of hunger licks up through him like fire on oil.

He’s so fucking close to losing the thread of control completely that when he pulls back, it’s with a frustrated, desperate sound, guttural in his throat. He steps away just far enough for breath and action lest he find himself unwilling to in a way which would cut this disappointingly short. His shadows press firm but careful against Colt's shoulders, guiding her to recline against the island, while others gather below, soft and cool as silk beneath her spine.

"Gods damnit, Colt," he mutters darkly, voice barely human with the heat roughening it. The shadows that had so gently pressed at her shoulders slither downward with sudden command, coiling around her wrists like cuffs. They move with purpose, curling forward to the far edge of the island where they anchor her arms in place, stretched out like a prize already offered. A feast laid bare, just for him. His clever fingers hook hard into the waistband of her jeans and yank them down, shadows holding her tight as the denim catches on her hips, thighs, and knees before he tosses them to the floor. Vesper's breath is ragged now, eyes drinking her in with a look so darkly starved it borders on reverence. Blue blazes as he stares at her, and his jaw tightens with restraint, a subtle feathering of muscle that betrays how close he is to devouring her whole.

Then he does.

His hands sweep up beneath her thighs, lifting them easily onto his shoulders as he steps forward and leans down. One hand supports her lower back, dragging her to him with almost feral strength, and without hesitation, he presses his mouth to her. The groan that escapes him is raw and unabashed as his tongue plunges into her, claiming the soft, slick heat of her core like it’s the first breath after drowning. He hums his approval low and deep, vibrations curling through her as his tongue moves—upward now, swirling firm and relentless around her clit—his fingers digging possessively into the curve of her hips to keep her where he wants her. There’s no patience left in him, no prelude or pause—just hunger, worship, and the wildfire rush of Colt’s thoughts in his mind, blurring the edges of his own until he isn’t sure where her pleasure ends and his begins.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

A jolt ripples through her when his fist pounds the counter. It's not fear—not of him, not like this—but it's unexpected. The few times she's gotten to watch this put together man finally come undone, it's not been this soon, or this simple. The remainder of that thought burns up in the curling heat of his voice, exhaling harsh against the surface of her skin, a flush rising in response. She angles against the drag of his mouth, granting better access for him to draw that match strike over her body.

He's ready in her grip, and that feel of him—so hot and heavy in her hands, kicking against the contact—it sinks right into her pooling desire until it spills over. Her inhale hits the back of her throat with an aching sound, palms stroking down slow and appreciative as a pulse flutters damp and eager between her thighs. Fuck's sake, her jeans feel like her most cursed possession. "I need you," she breathes, "now."

Her hooded gaze, already coveting ideas of him inside her, shuts for a moment as he buries himself in her chest. Not quite the same part of him she wanted buried, or the same place on her, but the fresh kiss of air on newly exposed skin, along with the subtle prickle of his jawline, still shortens a breath. Gods, how is it that everything he does strums through her like a live wire, as if each nerve is on alert just for him, waiting to hum to his every touch. It leaves her shivering with anticipation, leaning in for every connection that grazes past, utterly drawn to him.

It's why it's so sharp when he's suddenly retreating. It's not long, and he doesn't necessarily go far, but it doesn't keep back the sudden wash of cool air that buffets her like the tide, stark against each part of her that had begun to melt against him. Her legs dangle over the edge, horribly devoid of Vesper, and her teeth catch her lower lip in the absence of his. "Wha—" she starts, but doesn't quite finish, not when those dark hands of his slither in and insist she lay horizontal. Her gaze darts from the midnight wisp against her shoulder back to the blue of him, copper confusion dispersing into something knowing.

She obliges and leans back beneath the pressure of darkness, the cold bite of the counter never quite coming with his layer of shadow holding her. Sweet, always sweet in the small ways that matter, and it tugs in her chest as she settles. Her arms are already reaching back to grab for the other side of the counter as her binds slip into place and her name is brandished like a curse and a prayer. The wrecked sound of it shivers against her, a sly spread finding her lips. This is her favorite version of him, the one that she gets to have in these moments, where he's started to let go of being careful and all the less tame sides of him shine through the veneer of control. At that, her heels find the edge of the counter and her knees part in slow but clear invitation. "Take me Ves," she says low and sultry. "I'm yours."

He shucks off her pants with minimal effort, her bare ass squirming for a moment against the edge, and then it's lifted up. Higher than she expected, and her eyes widen with the surprise, pulse skipping a beat as she's yanked to him with all the certainty of gravity reclaiming something that shouldn't be airborne. Her breath hitches with the shock, then absolutely splits and spills out with his name as his mouth takes her. Her fingers wrap and tighten around the tangible shadows that hold her, not fighting them, but scrabbling for something to hang onto as he drags her relentlessly through pleasure. Her hips buck against his hands, the intensity building into something that's nearly unbearable. "Vesper," she can barely manage the sound through each frantic moan, toes curling behind his head.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it

just because the fog is there

Gods, Colt's thoughts are enough to set his blood ablaze. They wrap around him, hot and tangled and unfiltered, twining through his mind like the last drag of smoke before the fire breaks loose. Her desire doesn’t just echo in his head; it burns, each wild flare of need pushing him to the brink of losing what little control he has left. If not for the taste of her on his tongue—sweet and slick and impossible to abandon—he might’ve already pressed himself into her, buried so deep that nothing could pull him back.

But no. This is the moment she gives him in full, and he’s not about to squander it. His shadows, dark and obedient, melt between her fingers, curling into them like lovers instead of captors. They don’t restrain so much as hold—a reverent claim—drawing her arms back until she’s arched like a bow across the counter. His hand presses firm against the small of her back, pinning her just enough to feel the curve of his strength and the care in his control.

And then he listens. Not with his ears, but with her mind. Every half-formed plea, every flicker of yes, there and don’t stop is absorbed and translated into the language of touch. His mouth moves accordingly, tongue curling and flattening in rhythm with her hunger, pressure adjusting with inhuman accuracy. And when her thoughts spike—when her need climbs from wanting to aching—he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t tease, he just gives.

Two fingers press into her, slow but sure, complementing the flick and swirl of his tongue with the same unerring precision. Not frantic, not rushed—just right, just hers, just enough to tease her closer to the edge and hold her there until it’s all she can do not to shatter apart beneath him.

There will be time later for clever words. Time for sly smirks and the casual confidence of knowing exactly what he'd done to her. But now? Now all he wants is her voice breaking on his name, and to taste the exact moment she fucking falls apart.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

Fingers fold into hers, steady and solid despite the twilight they're made of. It's always been this way with him—darkness providing comfort and stability, upsetting the whole idea that light's even needed. Many ideas have been turned upside down since meeting him.

Her grip tightens around the vantablack hold, grounding herself in it as best she can while he works her into a frenzy. The pillar of his actual hand to her back keeps her from pivoting completely as she jolts with each spike of pleasure. It tugs through her, an inescapable force that supersedes all her control, straining to his every command. It puts an intermittent rocking to her hips, rising with each wave he strokes through her, then breaking through a heave of her chest as it finishes spilling through her.

Even her breath belongs to him, hitching with each wicked pass of his tongue and press of his lips. The only thing she still has is her voice, and even that is roughened and chopped apart between each gasp he captures, but around it she mutters out a litany of curses, his name thrown into the mix like he's somewhere on the level between fuck and gods. The volume breaks and shatters into a shuddering moan as his fingers slip in, courting every last shred of sense she's clutching onto.

If just his kiss unbalances her, this, this means to ruin her entirely. The building pleasure is too absolute, an impossible addiction, this man. "Oh my fucking gods, Vesper" she pants, nails digging into dusk. This time, the walls of what he's built up buckle. She seizes against him, thighs cinching down on him, body curling up as if possessed as every fiber of her tightens and bears down before ripping open. Her orgasm hits her like it's a pair that have come back to back, shaking into every space she has until just his name is left vibrating across her. Gradually, she sinks back against the counter, nearly glowing with bliss as she turns liquid. Her hands go limp above her and her sighs become shallow and content as the aftershocks tremble through her.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it

just because the fog is there

Her pleasure crashes through him like it’s his own. It is, in a way; a second heart pounding in his chest, her ecstasy flooding his veins, her thoughts combusting like wildfire in his mind. He draws in a breath through his nose as he feels her climax begin to urge, and then doubles down.

Tongue and fingers moving in concert, steady and unrelenting, tuned by every spasm and fractured thought she sends him. When she breaks—when she clenches down with that desperate cry of his name, when her body curls and the shadows of her mind shatter around the light of release—he groans in answer, a deep, vibrating note pressed into the heat of her.

His grip tightens at her hips as if to hold her in the moment, the sound of his satisfaction nothing short of worship. It’s not dominance or conquest. It’s possession. Adoration. Hunger that’s been fed but not yet sated. Only when she begins to go boneless—slack with bliss, her thoughts purring low and dreamy in his head—do his shadows begin to unspool from her wrists, their grasp loosening until all that’s left is the echo of their touch in her palms.

And still, he doesn’t let go. Instead, he lets his mouth trail kisses—soft, reverent, honey-slow—from the slick ache of her to the tender skin of her inner thigh. To the rise of her hip. The soft plane of her belly. He stretches over her like shadow come to life, his hands gliding to her waist again, not to restrain her now but to hold her in place as something cherished. One hand fans along her side as he hums low and indulgently against her, lips brushing the curve of her breast where colour has bloomed from heat and arousal.

"Mmm," he exhales softly against her skin.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

Mumurs rise up slow and quiet in response to each tattoo of affection he marks with his lips. Invisible ink only, but she can feel them settle and sink in, lingering even as he's moved on. It sends something fluttering in her chest. She has never known care like this. Even in the best of times, she can't recall ever being held so thoroughly while she's broken apart, and then with the same attentive hands, put back together like she's something precious worth keeping. Each time she's with him, even the ones that don't end like this, Vesper dismantles a little bit more of what she thought she knew about a considerate man. He's already entirely ruined her ideas of good sex.

"Ves," she sighs, his name alone spoken like praise. Her voice is still rich with the deep satisfaction he granted, an unsteady sound above the raw that cuts in every so often, worn from every sound of ecstasy he cultivated. "Shit, you're better at getting me off than me." She laughs faintly, disbelief more than anything, half breathless with wonder. A smile eases in behind it, warm as a cat lying in the sun.

The steady eclipse of him is one she watches from hooded eyes, expectant. Each rise of his breath over her body blows against the embers he left behind, fresh sparks dragging beneath the shadow of him. When he stops to loiter at her chest, her fingers slide lazily into his hair, carding through it a few times in unspoken adoration before curling in and tugging him up. She needs that damn mouth. "I wanna make you feel good," she croons, gaze melting into him with assurance that she can. Her legs lift back around either side of him, corraling him closer.

She aches for all of him, not entirely fulfilled without having him in full. More than that though, she wants to make him incoherent with release. It's not about unlacing everything he keeps so knitted up, although she's ever curious about the feral thing lurking just beneath the seams. It's about taking every one of his troubles between her thighs and bearing down until they crumble, until all he can feel is her, and the rest of the world and its weight is gone. She can't keep them from him entirely, but she can give him time. Enough to relax to sink into her, to pretend for a while like this is all that matters and that he doesn't need to be anything more than her's.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it

just because the fog is there

A quiet laugh huffs out against the swell of her breast, warm and smug and a little bit dangerous. "That a fact?" he hums, mouth dragging higher in a line of kisses that barely hold together. Of course Vesper won't elaborate; won’t say that her own thoughts gave him every roadmap, every nuance of what she craved. Let her think it’s some demigod trick, or just him being that good. Let her keep that little marvel tucked against her ribs for later. He’d rather bask in the aftermath anyway; the way her mind curls like smoke from a blown candle, slow and lazy, still faintly glowing. It does enough to soothe the ache she left hard and waiting in his cock, though not nearly enough to cool it.

As she tugs at his hair, drawing him upward, he goes easily—fluid and slow as low tide creeping up sand—mouth meeting hers in a kiss that carries the taste of her, deep and unhurried. There’s no hurry now, no teasing left in him—just the dark, steady pull of desire that tightens every time she sighs.

One hand lifts to her breast as they kiss, the pad of his thumb circling slowly over her nipple, while the other slides into her hair, knotted and firm. Her legs curl around him again and he feels the twitch in his cock as she draws him in close, that heat dragging a low, aching sound from his throat. The flush in his cheeks is instant, rising from throat to cheekbone, but his voice stays low and dry as it curls against her lips. "That what you want?" he murmurs, fingers tightening at her scalp, the other hand splayed warm and wide against her ribs.

His hips roll forward once, slow and warning, the thick line of him dragging between her thighs. "Or you want me to fuck you so good I gotta carry you into bed after?" A pause, his mouth brushing hers with a wolfish slant. If she wanted to take the reins, he'd let her, and he'd enjoy it too, but Vesper wasn't so sure that Colt was quite done bein' had yet.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

He rises with all the certainty of nightfall, sweeping over the sunset of her satisfaction. The curl of her fingers slackens, hands melting down to the edges of his jaw as she meets his mouth and the lipstick he's still wearing. The contact pours fresh warmth through her as if he's nothing more than liquor for her to sip on, and like a wick that reignites when the smoke's still too hot it flares up inside her.

A faint whimper sighs into him without intent as her body arches up into the graze of his thumb, chasing more as her breasts rise into his touch. Her nipple's already peaked and electric beneath him, betraying just how greedy she is. She tilts her head back faintly with the fist in her hair, mouth drawn sly near his as a shiver runs down her nape. Her gaze slides up to his, barely able to catch more than the wash of blue with how close they are, but she holds the dangerous line of his stare with a sultry flick of her lashes. At his question, the one that comes with voice and each tilt of his hand, she responds with a hum of consideration into the corner of his lips. She leans forward just a hair, pulling on the taut line he's got in her undone braid to swipe another kiss before leaning back fully into the counter, chest still arched in silent ache for him.

"You implying fucking me that well won't make you feel good?" she challenges, smile crooked beneath her teeth as one holds part of her lip. No, she'd certainly prefer he bend her over the kitchen table like she pictured earlier, but she could always make it both if that's what it'd take. "You're gonna have to carry me to the field first," she reminds him with a curl of desire warming her voice. The whole point of him coming over had been to set the snake skin under the moon, although if they forgot tonight and had to try again, maybe that wouldn't be the worst either.

She tugs abruptly with her halo of legs against him, shimmying down a bit to meet the flush press of him against her. "Unless your plan is to just go at it all night out there and bed at dawn?" Notice there's no opposition in her query; invitation even. Maybe some water breaks here and there, a bite or two of that steak.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it

just because the fog is there

Against her mouth, Vesper's breath catches like a match strike, heat flaring in his chest. Colt's all sun-drenched temptation beneath him, golden and goddamned radiant even when wrecked. Those kiss-bruised lips, the gleam of sweat along her flushed skin, the way her tousled braid halos her like she’s some holy thing, it makes his hunger tip into something near feral. The look in her eyes dares him to come undone, and gods help him, he already is.

"You made it sound like you wanted the reins," he mutters, jaw tightening as her hips shift and send lightning straight through him. "But if you’re good with me fuckin’ you—" A hiss of breath cuts off the rest as she wriggles lower and the thick press of him meets soaked heat. His mouth waters at the memory of her taste and his vision nearly whites out with the need to be inside her.

A snarl shreds out of him as he kicks free of the pants tangled around his ankles, the sharp clumsiness of it entirely at odds with the control he’s kept so far. Still in his socks, no shame left to spare, he growls, "Fuck’s sake," and lets go. Both hands seize her hips, grip hard enough to leave behind their own constellation of shadowed finger marks, and with a single, brutal snap of his strength, he hauls her off the counter and onto his cock. The stretch, the heat of her swallowing him down, drags a raw gasp from his lungs, knees thudding against the cabinets as his whole body tries to thrust up deeper, harder, as if he could just disappear inside her.

One hand leaves her hip to anchor around her back, palm splayed between her shoulder blades as he pulls her flush against him, his spine arching to hold her like she’s the only thing tethering him to this world. He chokes on a groan into her mouth, lips crashing together as he kisses her hungrily, messily, like he’s trying to drink every sound from her throat.

It’s obscene—this desperation—but it’s hers. Every fucking ounce of it.

Still buried deep, his knees bend and he lifts, carrying her as easily as if she weighed nothing, shadows peeling back the front door with a shove of force as dogs scatter and moonlight calls. The snake skin trails behind them, caught in the curl of shadow like a promise half-kept. Every step is agony as she shifts around him and it’s not enough. Not yet. Not nearly. His jaw locks as his hands squeeze around the curve of her ass, holding her so tightly his knuckles have gone white, and his shadows flicker wildly at the edges of his vision.

"Hold on," he growls against her throat, voice ragged with restraint already cracking. And with a twist of space, he misty-steps them straight into the field—into grass bathed silver and the full, watching eye of the mood—his knees already bending, ready to drive her down and finish what her mouth and mind had fucking started.

don't mean nothing's behind it

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

COLT

Usually, I ain't the type to stay up all damn night
Thinkin' 'bout someone else
It's hard to be fine when your heart's on the line
And the truth is I'm goin' through hell

Every playful thought curling through her mind, adding a teasing wind to her body, is immediately seared away beneath the brand of his hands. The heat of them sinks into the building fire in her belly, licking up higher as she's suddenly yanked and hoisted, his strength wrenching the breath straight from her chest and out. A cry breaks free, sharp and wrecked, as the only purchase she finds for a moment is her seat upon him. The immediate fill is overwhelmingly perfect, so ready for him that his immediate depth is eagerly claimed, the hot slide of him into her core sending ripples of satisfaction up through her spine.

Her legs lock on either side of him, nails clawing against his nape, forehead pressing to his shoulder in an open-mouthed pant that's desperate to regain breath over the disbelief of how fucking good he feels. A hopeless endeavor as he drives into her, burying his cock even further in one staggering thrust. The cabinets shudder nearly as much as she does with the relentless nature of it, another wild noise sundering from her as he stretches her unapologetically. He steals part of it with his mouth, and she moans low and greedy into that mess of his lips. She’s both clinging and chasing, body arching to drag him closer still, the way he's coming apart so ruinous and rare that it makes her frantic.

“Ves—fuck—I want you so bad,” the words break ragged against his chest, her breath caught between moan and beg. She's a glutton for the feel of him, needing more even still. “It's like I’ll never get enough of you.” Her need throbs like its own heartbeat around him, aching for the friction that barely comes with every shift as he moves them. Near delirious with a violent flush, practically running a fever for him, she's dimly aware that he's striding through the kitchen. "Wrong way—" she starts to say, because the kitchen table is the other direction, and this is the screen door he's staggering through. His warning lands like a joke, because she's already clutching him like lungs do air—she's been holding onto him nonstop.

And then the world vanishes.

One second it’s the heat of the kitchen—lamplight, wood grain, liquor glasses—and the next it’s gone, dissolved into shadow mist. Her stomach somersaults, body still locked around his, and then air bites in cold and contrasting against their bare, sweat-slick skin. The rush of it all gasps out of her as they hit the field in a sprawl of moonlit grass and distant dog barking. She only has a moment before he sends them down, but she uses it to lean back slightly and stare up at him, wide eyes capturing his while her heart gallops away. The suddenness, the wild magic of it, rattles her as much as the carefully rough way he still holds her, buried deep like a promise to wreck them both.

“Ves—what the hell,” she breathes, awe and want tangling hopelessly together. She hadn't meant carry her to the field now, just instead of the bed after he fucked her too well to stand. So much for the blankets she had collected for them to lie out here with, and the brownies were liable to burn at this rate, and—she doesn't care. Gods, this is where he belongs, crowned with the starlight that always leans in closer for him, turning all the edges of him sterling, deepening the shadows that wreathe the other parts of him the night's light can't quite reach.

“Fuck. Me.” She demands, want rising like an infestation inside her. As they slam down, her undone braid fans out like a halo in the moonlit plain, knees rising to her chest off of his sides, not wanting any obstruction keeping him from sinking into her completely.

I keep it dark, I keep it quiet
But then you come around and light me up
Takin' up space like a hyphen
You're on my mind and I can't fight it