[Maybe it says a lot about her that Dante doesn't mind the appreciative look, even though he tends to keep this close to his chest - pun not intended - outside of a battle, where his opponent is just as able to do it. Or maybe it says a lot about the power affecting him instead, causing him to feel sated under her gaze, parched when she's not touching him intently, even if she that intention means to tear.
He makes a snap with his teeth in the air just after Vanessa withdraws her tongue, lands a soft but yearnful kiss upon the bow of her upper lip. The chuckle he lets out is almost musical, both taunting, a reaction that stems from any demands made his way, and appreciative at the smile he feels against him. ] Yes, Ma'am.
[He kisses her then, fully. Turns his face just so to deepen it, because at this point he's hungry and unable to hide it. And as weird as it is, it's kissing her that turns a fast, sharp fuse of heat into a slow burn that both feeds and soothes him. And he needs that - he figures that if he enters her then, everything else will be very shortlived.
He'll think about that particular concern, later.
When he releases her, the hand on her hips guide her upwards, and he trails nips and kisses down her neck again, across her chest - a particularly harsh bite right by her cleavage to get back at her from that last one, even if gentle enough not to mar her skin much. He scoots lower, and, with a final waggle of his eyebrows, he makes his weight slide enough - using the coffee table behind them to prop his legs and feet (how he manages to miss both the glasses and the bottle is beyond explanation) as his head disappears beneath her skirts, the flat of his tongue lapping at her folds the millisecond after.]
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He makes a snap with his teeth in the air just after Vanessa withdraws her tongue, lands a soft but yearnful kiss upon the bow of her upper lip. The chuckle he lets out is almost musical, both taunting, a reaction that stems from any demands made his way, and appreciative at the smile he feels against him. ] Yes, Ma'am.
[He kisses her then, fully. Turns his face just so to deepen it, because at this point he's hungry and unable to hide it. And as weird as it is, it's kissing her that turns a fast, sharp fuse of heat into a slow burn that both feeds and soothes him. And he needs that - he figures that if he enters her then, everything else will be very shortlived.
He'll think about that particular concern, later.
When he releases her, the hand on her hips guide her upwards, and he trails nips and kisses down her neck again, across her chest - a particularly harsh bite right by her cleavage to get back at her from that last one, even if gentle enough not to mar her skin much. He scoots lower, and, with a final waggle of his eyebrows, he makes his weight slide enough - using the coffee table behind them to prop his legs and feet (how he manages to miss both the glasses and the bottle is beyond explanation) as his head disappears beneath her skirts, the flat of his tongue lapping at her folds the millisecond
after.]