VARUS
He focuses intensely on the movements she gives – unable to fully feel them by pressure alone, but he does notice the electricity that he clings to as she runs her hands along his neck, over the contours of his jaw, already loosening the clench there. And he only pauses when he moves his arm so that she might be able to run that electricity down it, to his wrist, the intensity of it a perfect amount – noticing just how she loosens it around the thinner parts and applies more where there’s muscle and things are thicker. “That’s perfect.” He hums, content.
And when she’s done, only then does he peer up at her from the bed, flashing a grateful smile as his systems readjust and flicker with the sensors settling within him. “Now, I suppose it’s my turn to hold up the other end of the bargain, yeah?” He asks, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting there. His gaze focuses on her face, wondering where she might request said bite – the ex-Assassin ready for wherever it is she wants it.
And when she’s done, only then does he peer up at her from the bed, flashing a grateful smile as his systems readjust and flicker with the sensors settling within him. “Now, I suppose it’s my turn to hold up the other end of the bargain, yeah?” He asks, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting there. His gaze focuses on her face, wondering where she might request said bite – the ex-Assassin ready for wherever it is she wants it.
stories without a few let downs are boring when told
perfection and poems are a lie when it all unfolds
perfection and poems are a lie when it all unfolds
