well let's not be sexist. he's a young person who finds vanessa ives quite attractive. so rare to find mortals that live with one elegant boot in the dark; no wonder that dorian likes her. there's a power in her playful calm, her easy acceptance of what should have been scandal in her day.
but it is a great deal to presume to fuck anybody the first time you kiss them, and sex for witches is a thing of nuance and ancient culture, as much as it's raw, too. he's not some green and greedy boy. he tastes her mouth and smells her hair, and then his brown fingers drift his nails over her skin, finding the subtle floral pattern of that lace under the fabric. he trails his fingers up the outline of her thighs, her hips. his nails aren't long, and his touch is light -- a tracery that makes her skin wonder and imagine as much as answer. they elicit a tingle through her nerves, the shivery ones networked in her inner thighs, her inner-arms.
but the whole 'taking my time,' 'sexy scholarly patience' thing is a bit compromised when she manages to pop his shirt open over his chest.]
J'aimerais discuter de mes eaux-fortes, auissi, [he remarks, grinning against her mouth. he's joking. probably. oh no he's joking.]
nsfwish
well let's not be sexist. he's a young person who finds vanessa ives quite attractive. so rare to find mortals that live with one elegant boot in the dark; no wonder that dorian likes her. there's a power in her playful calm, her easy acceptance of what should have been scandal in her day.
but it is a great deal to presume to fuck anybody the first time you kiss them, and sex for witches is a thing of nuance and ancient culture, as much as it's raw, too. he's not some green and greedy boy. he tastes her mouth and smells her hair, and then his brown fingers drift his nails over her skin, finding the subtle floral pattern of that lace under the fabric. he trails his fingers up the outline of her thighs, her hips. his nails aren't long, and his touch is light -- a tracery that makes her skin wonder and imagine as much as answer. they elicit a tingle through her nerves, the shivery ones networked in her inner thighs, her inner-arms.
but the whole 'taking my time,' 'sexy scholarly patience' thing is a bit compromised when she manages to pop his shirt open over his chest.]
J'aimerais discuter de mes eaux-fortes, auissi, [he remarks, grinning against her mouth. he's joking. probably. oh no he's joking.]