thistle
Patience is a becoming trait.
In an instant Vahl's lips worked against her own, tongue delving. Both hands fell against the outside of her thighs, encouraging her legs tighter about his waist. When he felt her comply, the wisp stood, standing long enough to shove her against the wall. Murmuring for her to take the metal sconce above her head, one hand helping her twine her fingers through the metal holding, Vahl loosened her belt and allowed the robe to fall free about her.
- fade to black -
*cough*
- fade to black -
*cough*
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