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. ]
but a calculated one, maybe; less of a mistake and more of an... indulgence, perhaps. ever critical, ever logical, lune weighs her options and balances the consequences. the path in the pursuit of knowledge isn't always so clearly defined—sometimes, you have to give more of yourself in order to obtain the desired result. but here is where it gets a little muddy: she doesn't know what that desired result is. not enough to clearly voice it.
there's a lot about verso she doesn't know. she pushes and persists, yes, is unrelenting in her questions, of course, but she always lets him go in the end. if she had her way, she'd keep him by the fire through the night just to shake him down for all the knowledge he has. maybe then she could figure out what that look in his eyes mean when he thinks no one is looking at him, or the way his expression shifts ever so slightly when they land on a certain topic. he's evasive (the less charitable would consider him disingenuous, perhaps) and yet he has a great capacity for sincerity, for kindness. he's contradictory in the most frustrating way, and sometimes, she just wants to reach out—
her fingers sink into his hair, a fine tremble shivering down her spine at the drag of his calluses against her thighs. they're further from camp, but the firelight still reaches their corner, licking along her skin to illuminate one side of her face. anticipation simmers low in her abdomen, a tight knot of tension that winds tighter the closer he gets to the apex of her thighs, but the hand that finds hers eases it just enough that when he finally gets his mouth on her, she doesn't immediately shatter. she melts instead, breathing a shaky sigh on the exhale as she widens the spread of her thighs, lacing their fingers together.
belatedly, she realizes with some dry amusement that with his mouth so occupied, he can't answer anything else she wanted to ask. it's almost as if he'd planned this all along. ]
[ rendering himself functionally unable to answer may have been part of the plan, or at least what planted the seed of the thought somewhere in his mind -- but that's quickly been melted away just in favor of simple want. her fingers tangle through his hair, and he makes some low, appreciative sound, mostly muffled against her skin.
it's been a little while since he's done anything like this, but verso settles back into it readily enough. it's easy to tell that he means to take his time, to savor this savor her, some quiet humming sound thrumming in his throat and tongue, enough for her to feel it as he licks against her folds -- but its' a war in his mind. that, and simple impatience, heat and want and the need to taste her more, to feel her coming apart under his mouth and tongue. she sighs, spreads her thighs to invite him in deeper, and verso briefly lifts his head, just enough to look at her as his eyes flicker open, pupils blown, dark and hungry, and for just enough time for her to see how the corner of his lips quirks into a smirk.
he winds an arm around one of her legs, skin against skin, callused fingers settling somewhere over her thigh and pressing hard enough to dip against tender muscle. his other hand squeezes tightly over hers as she threads their fingers together, anchoring them both to each other as he ducks down again. this time he tongues directly into her, shameless about how he breathes her in, tongue sliding as deep as he can reach.
the arm wrapped around her leg shifts, hauling himself closer to her, angling until he can let is hand slide up over the flat of her belly. feeling the tension held there, thumbing lightly over her navel, paying attention to any sound she makes, to how he can feel the muscle in her stomach twitch and flicker in response to his mouth and tongue, turning towards anything that gives him a bit more response and chasing it down. ]
[ it's been so long for her that it may as well be her first time now, body alight with a potent sensitivity that has her closing her eyes to it, her hips twitching up against his mouth at his groan. her legs shift against his face as if to find purchase, but the feeling of his stubble prickling along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs only adds to the onslaught of sensation, dragging out a shaky gasp as her eyes flutter open again in time to catch his smirk. the sight makes her stomach clench, makes her fingers tighten in his hair; something adjacent to annoyance flares alongside the slow burn of arousal, but it's fleeting, banking quickly once he works his tongue into her.
it's a gentle stretch but has her twisting beneath him all the same, a more pronounced shudder chasing heat down her spine. lune is quiet in her pleasure, but her body makes up for it: fingers gripping his hand tightly, the heel of her foot digging into his back to encourage him closer. she barely registers the way her hips squirm, trying to grind down on his tongue, his face, anywhere else she can find. it's only the fact that she may actually smother him that she relents, a low moan caught in her throat. ]
Verso— [ barely above a murmur, but in the quiet of the night, she's certain he wouldn't miss it. whatever else she wanted to say slips immediately from her mind like sand between her fingers; her world narrows down to each point of contact they share, her pulse loud in her ears. she's so—she's close, she can feel it as the tension winds tighter, pushing his hand on her abdomen down until he meets his mouth, until she can guide his thumb to press against her clit. ]
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@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. ]
no subject
but a calculated one, maybe; less of a mistake and more of an... indulgence, perhaps. ever critical, ever logical, lune weighs her options and balances the consequences. the path in the pursuit of knowledge isn't always so clearly defined—sometimes, you have to give more of yourself in order to obtain the desired result. but here is where it gets a little muddy: she doesn't know what that desired result is. not enough to clearly voice it.
there's a lot about verso she doesn't know. she pushes and persists, yes, is unrelenting in her questions, of course, but she always lets him go in the end. if she had her way, she'd keep him by the fire through the night just to shake him down for all the knowledge he has. maybe then she could figure out what that look in his eyes mean when he thinks no one is looking at him, or the way his expression shifts ever so slightly when they land on a certain topic. he's evasive (the less charitable would consider him disingenuous, perhaps) and yet he has a great capacity for sincerity, for kindness. he's contradictory in the most frustrating way, and sometimes, she just wants to reach out—
her fingers sink into his hair, a fine tremble shivering down her spine at the drag of his calluses against her thighs. they're further from camp, but the firelight still reaches their corner, licking along her skin to illuminate one side of her face. anticipation simmers low in her abdomen, a tight knot of tension that winds tighter the closer he gets to the apex of her thighs, but the hand that finds hers eases it just enough that when he finally gets his mouth on her, she doesn't immediately shatter. she melts instead, breathing a shaky sigh on the exhale as she widens the spread of her thighs, lacing their fingers together.
belatedly, she realizes with some dry amusement that with his mouth so occupied, he can't answer anything else she wanted to ask. it's almost as if he'd planned this all along. ]
no subject
it's been a little while since he's done anything like this, but verso settles back into it readily enough. it's easy to tell that he means to take his time, to savor this savor her, some quiet humming sound thrumming in his throat and tongue, enough for her to feel it as he licks against her folds -- but its' a war in his mind. that, and simple impatience, heat and want and the need to taste her more, to feel her coming apart under his mouth and tongue. she sighs, spreads her thighs to invite him in deeper, and verso briefly lifts his head, just enough to look at her as his eyes flicker open, pupils blown, dark and hungry, and for just enough time for her to see how the corner of his lips quirks into a smirk.
he winds an arm around one of her legs, skin against skin, callused fingers settling somewhere over her thigh and pressing hard enough to dip against tender muscle. his other hand squeezes tightly over hers as she threads their fingers together, anchoring them both to each other as he ducks down again. this time he tongues directly into her, shameless about how he breathes her in, tongue sliding as deep as he can reach.
the arm wrapped around her leg shifts, hauling himself closer to her, angling until he can let is hand slide up over the flat of her belly. feeling the tension held there, thumbing lightly over her navel, paying attention to any sound she makes, to how he can feel the muscle in her stomach twitch and flicker in response to his mouth and tongue, turning towards anything that gives him a bit more response and chasing it down. ]
sorry for the wait!!
it's a gentle stretch but has her twisting beneath him all the same, a more pronounced shudder chasing heat down her spine. lune is quiet in her pleasure, but her body makes up for it: fingers gripping his hand tightly, the heel of her foot digging into his back to encourage him closer. she barely registers the way her hips squirm, trying to grind down on his tongue, his face, anywhere else she can find. it's only the fact that she may actually smother him that she relents, a low moan caught in her throat. ]
Verso— [ barely above a murmur, but in the quiet of the night, she's certain he wouldn't miss it. whatever else she wanted to say slips immediately from her mind like sand between her fingers; her world narrows down to each point of contact they share, her pulse loud in her ears. she's so—she's close, she can feel it as the tension winds tighter, pushing his hand on her abdomen down until he meets his mouth, until she can guide his thumb to press against her clit. ]