( It seems pretty on brand for them that there’s a pause, like they’re playing chicken or something. That would be easier, if it were a game and she weren’t listing back to press against his chest.
Her fingers at the back of his neck curl into his hair, not quite a tug - not yet. The suspense just keeps pulling tighter, feels like either Sarissa’s going to lose her ability to do something like playing it cool or the air’s about to bloody ignite. She wants him to be okay, but more than that she wants to give this to him, wants to feel the pressure of his bite. She wants them tangled together, honestly, but how to say that to someone when you’ve become so good at fucking up good things?
Her other hand idly hooks into his belt, an anchor point. )
[ it'd be easy to back out, but a lot harder to make it convincing. he can feel the heat of her blood through her skin and he can almost taste it thickly coat his tongue. he tries to control his breathing, but he pants a bit too loudly for his own ears.
when he bites down at the slope of her neck, it's the kindest and gentlest of sharp bites he's ever given. he can feel her blood dribble out from where he's pierced her skin and brush against het corner of his lips and tongue. he probably should've made her wear something that she wouldn't mind wrecking.
hand curling around her bicep, he keeps himself in check and ensures not to tighten his grip. his teeth sink in lower and he drags his tongue along her torn skin. ]
( A quiet gasp slips past her lips, and instinctively her hand tightens at his belt, tugging him closer. The sting and pressure, the warmth of his mouth on her neck— Sarissa moans, biting her lip. Her voice is raspy when the moan takes the sound of his name.
It’s hot as fuck and she feels like some sorta cliche because ain’t this just the kinda shit every dumbass bitch in a vampire romance novel gets swoony about? (But it’s not just this. It’s that smug sense of humour and his dickish comments and that he checks in on her even when he’s being an idiot.)
Her fingers slowly grasp at his hair, and the hand that was gripping his belt rubs lower, slow and deliberate over his cock. Impulse control ain’t ever been her strong suit. )
[ when kol thinks to pull away, her hand, tugging very dangerously and obviously at his belt, lowers to palm his cock. his teeth sink deeper into her skin, completely accidental, and he moans, her blood filling his mouth and coating his teeth and tongue.
it's hardly the first time he's bitten someone and gotten off while doing so. he's had sex while biting someone and ripping their neck wide open, but that had been in the before. now, it threatens to make him lose control, and he's not quite sure what control he's worried about slipping from his hands. his grip on his bloodlust is still a work in progress and his desire not to ruin a friendship appears to be a lot less solid than he had originally thought.
not that he cares. his mouth stays at her neck, tongue lapping at her skin.
one hand stays on her back, the notches of her spine imprinting into his palm, and the other falls from her shoulder to briefly skim her side. he's hardly a blushing bride; he roughly palms her breast through her shirt. ]
( That moan at her neck, the sharp pain of his teeth— Sarissa’s breath hitches. Pain, yeah, but also just because it feels good, and her back arches partly in response to the lance of pain, and to press her into the rough grasp of his hand. It feels beyond something she can articulate, something feral and instinctual.
Her hand drops from his neck, both instead working to unfasten his belt. )
Harder.
( Gasped out, as Kol’s belt is pulled from the loops and she tosses it aside. This feels like the crackle of electricity, the promise of rain after the oppressiveness of a building storm. )
[ some of his senses are there and active, and he knows, deep down, that he shouldn't press his teeth in any harder. whenever he does, he loses some semblance of control (something that feels like a foreign concept to him, a thousand-year-old adult). but he knows that he shouldn't be afraid. he's never been afraid. kol is formidable and fearless… yet he can feel the fear of humming someone he cares about warm his skin.
despite that, kol doesn't pull away. how can he? her blood sings to him just as loudly as her body does. he does nothing to resist or impede her at all; he doesn't do the sensible thing. his belt's gone and he only heeds her request (always a gentleman), teeth inching into her skin, warm torn flesh against his lips. her blood stains his mouth and chin and he laps at her. ]
( Probable outcomes: they never talk about this and shit is weird, they do talk about this and shit is weird, they don’t talk about this and go back to business as usual. She can dream, right?
The belt is tossed aside, and Sarissa’s breath is a long, slow rasp as Kol’s tongue moves over her skin, laps at her blood.
Her hand lingers at the button of his jeans, a cautious hesitations. She’s made some fucking assumptions already, just because of how they are, but—- )
You want more?
( Her voice is soft, hands resting at the button and zip of his jeans, and she tries to resist leaning back into him. Satisfaction felt laughable if they stopped here, but she’d live. Just about, anyway. )
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no subject
Her fingers at the back of his neck curl into his hair, not quite a tug - not yet. The suspense just keeps pulling tighter, feels like either Sarissa’s going to lose her ability to do something like playing it cool or the air’s about to bloody ignite. She wants him to be okay, but more than that she wants to give this to him, wants to feel the pressure of his bite. She wants them tangled together, honestly, but how to say that to someone when you’ve become so good at fucking up good things?
Her other hand idly hooks into his belt, an anchor point. )
no subject
when he bites down at the slope of her neck, it's the kindest and gentlest of sharp bites he's ever given. he can feel her blood dribble out from where he's pierced her skin and brush against het corner of his lips and tongue. he probably should've made her wear something that she wouldn't mind wrecking.
hand curling around her bicep, he keeps himself in check and ensures not to tighten his grip. his teeth sink in lower and he drags his tongue along her torn skin. ]
no subject
Sarissa moans, biting her lip. Her voice is raspy when the moan takes the sound of his name.
It’s hot as fuck and she feels like some sorta cliche because ain’t this just the kinda shit every dumbass bitch in a vampire romance novel gets swoony about? (But it’s not just this. It’s that smug sense of humour and his dickish comments and that he checks in on her even when he’s being an idiot.)
Her fingers slowly grasp at his hair, and the hand that was gripping his belt rubs lower, slow and deliberate over his cock. Impulse control ain’t ever been her strong suit. )
no subject
it's hardly the first time he's bitten someone and gotten off while doing so. he's had sex while biting someone and ripping their neck wide open, but that had been in the before. now, it threatens to make him lose control, and he's not quite sure what control he's worried about slipping from his hands. his grip on his bloodlust is still a work in progress and his desire not to ruin a friendship appears to be a lot less solid than he had originally thought.
not that he cares. his mouth stays at her neck, tongue lapping at her skin.
one hand stays on her back, the notches of her spine imprinting into his palm, and the other falls from her shoulder to briefly skim her side. he's hardly a blushing bride; he roughly palms her breast through her shirt. ]
Iiiiii archived the tag like a fool
Her hand drops from his neck, both instead working to unfasten his belt. )
Harder.
( Gasped out, as Kol’s belt is pulled from the loops and she tosses it aside. This feels like the crackle of electricity, the promise of rain after the oppressiveness of a building storm. )
no subject
despite that, kol doesn't pull away. how can he? her blood sings to him just as loudly as her body does. he does nothing to resist or impede her at all; he doesn't do the sensible thing. his belt's gone and he only heeds her request (always a gentleman), teeth inching into her skin, warm torn flesh against his lips. her blood stains his mouth and chin and he laps at her. ]
no subject
The belt is tossed aside, and Sarissa’s breath is a long, slow rasp as Kol’s tongue moves over her skin, laps at her blood.
Her hand lingers at the button of his jeans, a cautious hesitations. She’s made some fucking assumptions already, just because of how they are, but—- )
You want more?
( Her voice is soft, hands resting at the button and zip of his jeans, and she tries to resist leaning back into him. Satisfaction felt laughable if they stopped here, but she’d live. Just about, anyway. )