[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]the world keeps turning and turning until the star soiree events are a hazy memory. and like all memories, there's good tied into bad.

she finds it hard to focus on much this particular monday. there's a shakiness to her fingers that even little wisps of pearly pink can't ease away. no matter how hard she tries, her mind always comes back to the gala. the dances shared, the people, the dreams, the nightmares. all on replay like a movie trailer.

maybe coffee will help...

the soft scuffing of chair legs against tile announces her departure. whatever report she had been struggling through is promptly abandoned for the allure of caffeine. her path is cut short by a familiar face. the subject of some memories, both from the soiree and from previous nights. some induce a smile and others a phantom sensation of greedy fingers.

her skin feels a little hotter when she drifts into his orbit.

"fernando," comes softly. a hand reaches to brush an arm and lips curl into fond territory. "i didn't know you had free time today." a rare instance, sure, but one she'll gladly take advantage of.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]somehow, his gaze holds a different effect over her today. she slips the mask of a smile on, sure, but her skin slowly begins to crawl with life. hazy memories from a faraway nightmare plague her even now in the confines of a brightly lit hallway.

green hair, lifeless eyes, betrayal dripping from lips like poison. the choice she made for the war laid out against her as a weapon, aimed to kill.

a puff of pink mist escapes when her mouth opens slightly and she's inhaling it greedily as if it'll possibly combat the hellish nightmare experienced. it doesn't but that's besides the point. her chin raises a little, then, as if she's remembering that in his presence, she has to act like she has her shit together.

"in between meetings?" their days are different. his are spent in conference rooms and offices while hers are endless reports and lab work. somehow, she's not certain which one has a worse schedule.

fingers wrap around skin. her eyes dart around for a moment as if she's expecting to see a ghost. she doesn't but guilt still clings to her insides.

his question takes a moment to settle, to process.

"depends," she murmurs. slowly, her eyes return to his. "what are you trying to do?" she has a couple of ideas but she wants to hear him ask.

validation, comfort, praise... three things that always lead her right into the clutches of fernando silph. it'd be silly to assume the same of him, right?

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]"okay," she puts up little resistance. there's no use in denying it, really. they always end up here, one way or another.

perhaps it's inevitable.

the tug is forceful, fingers wound tight around pale skin. he leads her like a horse to water and she's thirsty enough to drink the whole lake if given the opportunity.

naturally, she can't help but ask a simple question. "where are we going?" it's curious, if only because she's not sure where this road leads. to heaven, to salvation? to hell, to damnation? luckily, she's well versed in both hymns of prayer and screams of sin.

besides, they've been here before. gates of paradise open once more and beckon them closer. wish tag or not, there's a want always scratching a way to the surface around him and she has never been very good at ignoring his influence.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]pieces fall into place with the metallic click of a lock. the standard dance, the usual happenings. sometimes she wonders if this agreement is laced somewhere between inky lines of her contract.

and most of the time, she doesn't care. it's human nature to want to be desired, sought after, chased. illeana reyes is no different.

except... she always finds herself being the chaser.

he turns and stops. her breath catches slightly in her throat. there's a stillness to the room. unspoken tension, action not taken slowly becoming the copperajah in the room. it unsettles her, truthfully. this isn't necessarily like them, like him. take what you are owed. he takes takes takes until there's nothing left to lick off the bone.

and there's a gentleness to her approach despite his teachings, despite previous entanglements.

"fernando," she whispers as if it's taboo to speak before worshipping begins. a hand rises, hesitates, and then reaches for his arm. little tendrils of pearly pink mist coil at her fingertips. "are... are you okay?" off script, sure, but beneath carnal instinct lies affection and fondness. he was the first person in the region to believe in her, in what she can do... he's been placed on a pedestal and she'll never be able to bring herself to destroy the altar of him. she's been led to the act of devotion for fernando silph, a product of her own actions in a chase to be something to the three piece.

and maybe that's the whole point.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]a tug, a pull, a collision. hands sprawl at her waist and she's melting into his body. fabric against fabric, her hands finding rest against his chest.

her head angles, as if searching for something she hasn't quite seen in his features.

and then he breathes magic words out and there's no stopping it. her eyes widen for a second. the confession catches her off guard, really. it's one thing to act on desires but for him to lay it out in the open like that? unheard of.

"then have me," she manages to get out before lips crash together. it's aggressive, heated, fervent. she rises to the occasion. intensity matched and escalated. nails dig into fabric, release, and crawl up to the warmth of a neck. a tug follows, as if she requires more out of him than he's already given.

take what you are owed. take what you desire.

take all of it until the world is yours.

their versions of the world differ, it would seem. hers is warm like a human body, with two eyes and a heartbeat.

his is power, control, domination.

she doesn't fit but she'll break pieces off until the mold is perfectly crafted as her throne.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]greed fuels them. hunger drives them.

wandering hands take hold of her body and she's letting out a soft breathy sound into locked lips. worship in the middle of a private bathroom becomes something unholy. her hands claw at the fabric of his suit and there's the sudden surge of need that overpowers anything else.

her lab coat drops unceremoniously. it flutters to the floor, abandoned in their wake. he guides them through the room, her steps distracted by the warmth of hands sprawled across her body. dizzying, intoxicating... even without his mist. and maybe she doesn't need it, in the end. her actions are fueled not from an addiction to misty terrain but to him.

the smack of skin hidden beneath fabric elicits a squeak. it's swallowed up, eaten alive.

her name drips from his lips and illeana has never been one to ignore the way it flutters her insides. not in the slightest. she follows instructions obediently, right down to the letter. hands stretch forward, grip onto the edge of the sink, and her head turns to gaze at him over her shoulder. there's an expectant look there, bordering dangerously close to primal.

it's a different setting but the result is clear: they've been here before and they keep coming back to the same place.

and if the pattern breaks, she's not sure what will be left in its wake.

FERNANDO SILPH

[attr="class","illie"]

[attr="class","illie b"]

[attr="class","illie i"]urgent, desperate, needy. they're not words that she would categorize him as. and yet, as expectant meets urgent, she's surprised by what she finds.

and maybe this private bathroom is full of surprises.

it starts with the reveal of the real fernando silph. untamed, unashamed, unleashed. it feels like a reward for something she doesn't quite understand but she's sinking teeth and claws in. holding close, holding tight, unwilling to let go.

her name -- no, her real name -- echoes against the walls, layered between heightened breathing and need. and faintly, she wonders if it's soundproof in here. and mostly, she doesn't care.

her neck arches in the way a spine does, hair gathered at the nape of her neck and used to reign in carnal instinct. it's dominance, paired with the mantra of her name.

and isn't it odd to be so caught off guard by something as small and simple as a given name?

she expected reyes. she expected nothing.

and he gave her everything.

there's no coming back, no coming down. they chase a high painted with bodies and groans. fingers grip the cool surface of a sink and it does little to ground. layers have already been peeled back to reveal to the soul, to begin another ascension they're already familiar with.

need makes her soft, makes her weak, makes her his.

and maybe if his confession had escaped, she'd release a confession of her own. it doesn't and it stays buried beneath physical connection, lingering like a shadow.

kisses meet sensitive skin in the crook of her neck. a soft keen follows, as if affection is the real end goal here. "fernando."

when the dust settles, she's flushed and breathless, seeking a soft kiss despite knowing better.

FERNANDO SILPH