VIENDA | VERY CLOCKING EARLY...OR LATE
Rhys reached the sensitive skin of her breasts, lingering and exploring as her hand brushed against the warmth restrained by his uniform. She groaned, violet gaze fluttering against the urge to let her eyes drift closed. Their lips met, and the blonde man eagerly assisted the mixed blood as she fought against his pants with a wide grin. Stroking the soft, yet firm warmth in her hand, Charity chanced a look over the easily tanned skin of the Seventen, a deep blush dressing her features.
“You did always wear green exceptionally well.” She said with a nervous laugh as Rhys moved to remove his pants with a mischievousness she remembered so easily, painfully aware that after far too many teenage fantasies and awkward might-have-beens, here before her was the completely undressed Valentin. Her own quick undressing might have been more shy, more hesitant, were it not for the artificial courage that burned in her veins.
“Clocks—“ Was all she got out in admiration of everything before her eyes, as once again the plantation son moved to kiss her, deeply and with obvious excitement. The platinum haired pianist welcomed him, her hand shifting against sensitive skin with a sound of encouragement, violet gaze unable to stay open when his breath tickled her ear with wicked words.
“You haven’t forgotten?”
The monite was familiar, a flash of their past, of things that had been so wonderfully eye opening. Of Bethas snowy days and shared minds. He’d not forgotten, and neither had she. It was a memory forever encapsulated in her mind, a beautiful rose hidden amongst the thorns of her memories. Charity smiled, before she felt a sudden surge of panic, realising too late what he was doing as the mona between them shifted with warm nostalgic tones.
“Rhys, wait—“ The woman gasped too late, goosebumps rolling across her alabaster skin with a shiver. Immediately, the sense of sharing his thoughts and feelings swept over her like a sense of vertigo, bringing with it the lingering effects of his alcoholic induced intoxication on top of her own illegal high. Disorientated and slightly dizzy from the shift, the blonde let her head tilt to relax against one shoulder, her eyes shut against the curiously strong connection and enjoying the hot breath that tickled her throat.
Oh.
The brush of eager fingers searing the yet unexplored pale skin on her thigh was difficult to ignore, but Charity took a second to focus, her face reflecting a guilty sort of shame as Rhys was enveloped by the narcotic effects that lingered in her system. His voice was enough to show her it had bleed through to his own senses, and even though she couldn’t see his face pressed softly against the rapidly thrumming pulse in her throat, the blonde still frowned slightly.
“I’m...I’m sorry. I didn’t expect...” She shivered as his hand moved inches closer to her core, breathing a soft whine of pleasure as her minstrations laced through their combined senses. Pausing for a moment, the petite blonde drew back from him, leaning away to look at his face with genuine concern.
“Are...are you okay?” She drew her lip between her teeth, worried about his reaction to her inebriation and it’s effects on his inexperienced self to follow the brush of long fingers on her pale skin. The delicate creature knew the opioids intimately, and how they made everything seem euphoricly pleasant. The addiction to that feeling was her poison, and it was frightening to think that her Rhys was now swimming in that depth. It was dangerous.
It was also deviously arousing knowing that for a brief moment the Seventen would see what she saw. She should stop. This was too far. This should be the line she drew in the sand. It was one thing to so rebelliously ignore her father’s will, it was another to willingly let Rhys drown in her own sadistic habit.
Except that she knew what it felt like to drag herself so deliciously over the edge in this state, memories of crystalline blue eyes and mischievous smiles fueling her nights alone.
Unable to stop the slow curious smile that graced her lips, Charity shifted slightly to settle more on her knees, bringing her free hand up to press against his cheek. The warmth tingled on her own cheek as she leaned to kiss his shoulder, other hand stroking the firm arousal slowly between them. Moving a little further, she brushed dusky lips against his chest, nibbling open mouthed kisses across heated skin with a hum. The platinum blonde shivered, her breath catching as a ghost of the sensations Rhys experienced whispered across her skin. Glancing down between them, Charity moved the hand from his face to her still damp locks, tucking her hair back with a giddy sort of rush.
What are you doing? A small voice shouted from the depths of her mind, unsure and hesitant. The pianist pressed her lips against the softer skin beside Rhys navel, and lower still. She felt butterflies curl inside, the inexperienced galdor’s nerves fighting their way to the surface, field thrumming in a loose and unfocused wave.
“It’s really not as bad as you think. The Crop. It makes things feel...better.” The petite blonde said softly, her smile unfaltering even though she was terrified of...of what? Of Rhys, or her father? Or of the wicked thrill that pulsed through her as she leant further to sweep her tongue softly across the velveteen warmth still wrapped in her fingers. A ragged sound of surprise escaped the Captains daughter as the echoed sensation stroked against her core, encouraging the pianist to explore further his excitement with her mouth. Within her chest, Charity’s heart raced wildly, enamoured with the sounds and words she could elicit from the man.