Verso has been on the Continent a long time, has seen so many Expeditions come and go, and he isn't naive to the role he often comes to play with them. Sometimes he's a mentor or guide, other times he only helps from a distance, and other times an actual enemy. But often, spending time with a group of people stressed out of their minds and staring down the end of their lives, he can also offer them some simple, physical comfort. And he doesn't mind that ( even if he's not always as good at keeping distance as he thinks he is, even if sometimes his heart just sinks and sinks ).
Expedition 33 is different. He's been waiting for the opportunity to finally come, and he's taken care to not just immediately fuck it up, tried to keep his distance -- but soon enough he's there at camp, not quite a friend but a teammate nonetheless. Maelle gives him an armband, Sciel teases him, and Lune -- asks him questions. So many questions, over and over again, getting questioned ( or outright interrogated ) by Expeditions is hardly new to him, but Lune is persistent. She's sharp, analytical, and doesn't quite know how to take his evasiveness as an answer. She's sharp, she's beautiful, she doesn't trust him.
And she tastes like wine.
Verso's fingers are rough and callused with years of life on the Continent with sword and dagger in hand, gliding across the skin of her thighs, pulling them apart as he nestles himself between her legs. They've not quite managed to fully undress, parts of the uniforms hanging off of them in pieces, but its enough that he can look up at her through his half-lidded eyes and see her laid out over the bedroll they've haphazardly kicked out, her already-mussed hair framing her like a -- well. Like a painting.
The questions had been exhaustive. He'd moved closer. And now they're here, and Verso reaches for her hand with his own, mouthing hotly along her inner thigh, teasing until he reaches her core. His head spins with the heady scent of her, gripping onto her hand tightly as much to anchor himself as it is to anchor her, his eyes falling shut again as he ducks his head and laps over her, into her, tasting her. ]
@revitalization, smut pic prompts (nsfw obv.)
[ This is probably a mistake.
Verso has been on the Continent a long time, has seen so many Expeditions come and go, and he isn't naive to the role he often comes to play with them. Sometimes he's a mentor or guide, other times he only helps from a distance, and other times an actual enemy. But often, spending time with a group of people stressed out of their minds and staring down the end of their lives, he can also offer them some simple, physical comfort. And he doesn't mind that ( even if he's not always as good at keeping distance as he thinks he is, even if sometimes his heart just sinks and sinks ).
Expedition 33 is different. He's been waiting for the opportunity to finally come, and he's taken care to not just immediately fuck it up, tried to keep his distance -- but soon enough he's there at camp, not quite a friend but a teammate nonetheless. Maelle gives him an armband, Sciel teases him, and Lune -- asks him questions. So many questions, over and over again, getting questioned ( or outright interrogated ) by Expeditions is hardly new to him, but Lune is persistent. She's sharp, analytical, and doesn't quite know how to take his evasiveness as an answer. She's sharp, she's beautiful, she doesn't trust him.
And she tastes like wine.
Verso's fingers are rough and callused with years of life on the Continent with sword and dagger in hand, gliding across the skin of her thighs, pulling them apart as he nestles himself between her legs. They've not quite managed to fully undress, parts of the uniforms hanging off of them in pieces, but its enough that he can look up at her through his half-lidded eyes and see her laid out over the bedroll they've haphazardly kicked out, her already-mussed hair framing her like a -- well. Like a painting.
The questions had been exhaustive. He'd moved closer. And now they're here, and Verso reaches for her hand with his own, mouthing hotly along her inner thigh, teasing until he reaches her core. His head spins with the heady scent of her, gripping onto her hand tightly as much to anchor himself as it is to anchor her, his eyes falling shut again as he ducks his head and laps over her, into her, tasting her. ]