[He arches into the blunt force of her teeth - a pinch that does flush his skin and teases it almost apart, breaking the blood vessels underneath. At this intensity, it only fans the embers of the already healthy heat in his core. He grins, enjoying the smile that escorts the bite, even if the red patch lingers for only a second or two; gone the next blink of an eye. The skin on his back had been smooth and flawless when he had come out of the woods that day, but he still remembers her nails digging against his shoulders and sides. It makes him wonder where else she could hold onto, what other parts of his body she would find purchase on.
Questions about how strong Dante is have been asked all his life. He usually doesn't reply to them, avoids unnecessary shows of strength, even how quick he heals is something he plays close to his chest. He'd rather save that for when it's truly necessary.
So he arches his eyebrows when she takes the threat's face value and weaves actual intent into it. Sounds as challenging as possible, the tone of her voice teasing him into actually doing it.
And there he is, shirt open, bulge straining against his pants, Vanessa's breasts tantalizingly pressed against his chest in the confines of a bodice, and her challenge to actually rip her panties off.
Talk about a Victorian book scene.
The laugh he presses against her lips and down her neck is delighted, and his hand slides over to the side of her hip, both fists bunching the fabric.]
Hold still. [Is the amused tone of his voice against her ear as a warning before the first band around her waist snaps.]
no subject
Questions about how strong Dante is have been asked all his life. He usually doesn't reply to them, avoids unnecessary shows of strength, even how quick he heals is something he plays close to his chest. He'd rather save that for when it's truly necessary.
So he arches his eyebrows when she takes the threat's face value and weaves actual intent into it. Sounds as challenging as possible, the tone of her voice teasing him into actually doing it.
And there he is, shirt open, bulge straining against his pants, Vanessa's breasts tantalizingly pressed against his chest in the confines of a bodice, and her challenge to actually rip her panties off.
Talk about a Victorian book scene.
The laugh he presses against her lips and down her neck is delighted, and his hand slides over to the side of her hip, both fists bunching the fabric.]
Hold still. [Is the amused tone of his voice against her ear as a warning before the first band around her waist snaps.]