[ Who the heck do you think he is, he's extremely thirsty and he's going to let it be known in the worst way possible... because he's embarrassing and he's an otome. Thus is life?!
He would've stopped if he told her to back away, but the permission he's getting galvanizes him to a degree where he can be bold. She breathes her last syllables and he's right there to kiss them out of her mouth, to taste her words and to sigh in contentment at how sweet they taste. ]
Are you blushing for me, too?
[ She told him to narrate, after all. A laugh, and he slides one free hand up along her waist, then under the thin fabric of her shirt to dance along the curve of her lower back. ]
You're making me want to take you, right here. Against this door.
[His thirst is MAX THIRST? What is he, a drink ad? Because this otome is just going at it, yo.
Well, she made her bed, in a way. Maybe he's lighting up that INNER THIRST she may have for him, not that she would ever...admit that...out loud...
Also because it might go to his head. Or otherwise.
She hums, as that hand explores her skin, her body arching to his in response. Coloured cheeks definitely cannot be ignored, and for a moment she glances away, though her lips never pull away from his.]
Perhaps. [She can't be too honest, not quite yet. Because his words are dangerous and they're awfully tempting, that she could fall with him and they would never get up. But maybe it would be worth it.
Her legs tighten around him, and with strange resolve.]
Then are you going to do it? [Because if all else, at least she's bold enough to handle whatever he was throwing at her. And maybe part of her wanted it too.]
[ He's trying to tempt— that's the point. Or maybe it's cowardice, since he wouldn't be able to bear it if he was the only one here that wants this as much as he does. His interest is obvious, pushing up against the front of the pants that Vietnam bought for him; everything she's done thus far has already gone to his head. It's difficult for him to argue otherwise.
So, despite his seeming confidence— his heart is hammering in his ears. His vampire's blood makes it easy for him to pin her against the wall with the strength of his shoulders alone, but his hand is surprisingly reverent as it roams from front to back, from back to breasts. ]
This is your chance to tell me no.
[ He says it almost like a plea. A request to tether him if he's doing something wrong, if he's overstepped. Because more than anything else, he couldn't bear it if Vietnam threw him out for any perceived offense— he's lost in time and at her mercy, even if he's the one currently grazing his fangs on her neck, rocking his hips up against her frame. ]
Has anyone ever told you that you're intoxicating?
[She's tempted alright. Each deliberate move leaves her wanting more and more. While it wasn't something she expected to happen as soon as she returned, she knew that part of her was attracted to her. Sometimes sparing a passing glance, what stopped her was her lack of confidence, which frankly meant her lack of Game.
And yet here she is, savouring every touch that she seeks for it, arching deep into his hands to follow his movement. Her hips press hard against his, legs tightening to give her the leverage to tease him through his pants. She can feel it, after all, so she sways.]
Does this answer you? [It's not a no. It's the opposite. And she whispers deeply.]
I wonder, are you saying my blood is intoxicating? If so, you can have it. You know it never ends.
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He would've stopped if he told her to back away, but the permission he's getting galvanizes him to a degree where he can be bold. She breathes her last syllables and he's right there to kiss them out of her mouth, to taste her words and to sigh in contentment at how sweet they taste. ]
Are you blushing for me, too?
[ She told him to narrate, after all. A laugh, and he slides one free hand up along her waist, then under the thin fabric of her shirt to dance along the curve of her lower back. ]
You're making me want to take you, right here. Against this door.
[ He will, too— he's not lying. ]
no subject
Well, she made her bed, in a way. Maybe he's lighting up that INNER THIRST she may have for him, not that she would ever...admit that...out loud...
Also because it might go to his head. Or otherwise.
She hums, as that hand explores her skin, her body arching to his in response. Coloured cheeks definitely cannot be ignored, and for a moment she glances away, though her lips never pull away from his.]
Perhaps. [She can't be too honest, not quite yet. Because his words are dangerous and they're awfully tempting, that she could fall with him and they would never get up. But maybe it would be worth it.
Her legs tighten around him, and with strange resolve.]
Then are you going to do it? [Because if all else, at least she's bold enough to handle whatever he was throwing at her. And maybe part of her wanted it too.]
no subject
So, despite his seeming confidence— his heart is hammering in his ears. His vampire's blood makes it easy for him to pin her against the wall with the strength of his shoulders alone, but his hand is surprisingly reverent as it roams from front to back, from back to breasts. ]
This is your chance to tell me no.
[ He says it almost like a plea. A request to tether him if he's doing something wrong, if he's overstepped. Because more than anything else, he couldn't bear it if Vietnam threw him out for any perceived offense— he's lost in time and at her mercy, even if he's the one currently grazing his fangs on her neck, rocking his hips up against her frame. ]
Has anyone ever told you that you're intoxicating?
no subject
And yet here she is, savouring every touch that she seeks for it, arching deep into his hands to follow his movement. Her hips press hard against his, legs tightening to give her the leverage to tease him through his pants. She can feel it, after all, so she sways.]
Does this answer you? [It's not a no. It's the opposite. And she whispers deeply.]
I wonder, are you saying my blood is intoxicating? If so, you can have it. You know it never ends.