[attr="class","illeana"]

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

[attr="class","illeana i"]tentatively, like a tightrope wiggling beneath her feet, she feels the fine line they're treading. it wavers back and forth, never quite staying on one side for too long. a balancing act between simple curiosity and hidden agendas becomes difficult to maneuver.

too much pressure, too much leaning... and she'll fall.

"have i?"

doe eyes slip upward to find his. he has a few inches on her, maybe even a foot.

"if i was looking for something you were as well, what then?"

his hand encroaches on her personal space, close yet not daring to cross the threshold. she wants to follow the motions, trace his fingers until she can't see the space in between. yet, her stare does not stray.

on her own accord, her chin rises with phantom touch.

"i suppose it is there on both accounts."

mutual. thriving.

what would he do if she bridged the distance?

"distractions and company work wonders on a starved soul."

a spark is all it takes. igniting the bones, brightening the eyes.

she leans slowly, tentatively... as if she's afraid of catching fire, of burning.

"though, would you give in to the distraction?"

would she?

she's close enough for her cheek to brush against the edges of his hand. a little further and she would know the end as it could begin, with a jolt of lightning and a means big enough to swallow up the deep set yearning for a little while.

and she understands, then, that she already has given in to indulgence.

it had already been set in motion. all she needed to do was lean in.

vincenzo de luca

The tilt is there and his smile splits into a grin, though for once it lacks its typical, wolfish menace. No, in this moment, he’s simply… pleased. Warmth radiates from even the most minimal contact, and he could do far more but he’s mindful of the fact that as of yet, they are not behind closed doors.[break][break]

“If we were to be looking for the same thing, then it would be absurd to allow a perfectly good opportunity slip by, no?”[break][break]

“Certainly. If I found such a thing to be worth my while.” The answer is swift and decisive.It’s an indulgence that he shouldn’t partake of while working, but the hour is late and the clock runs down.[break][break]

So Enzo cannot find it in himself to be prudent. Professional or unprofessional, there are worse sorts he could spend his time with. And this feels far from regrettable.[break][break]

For a little while, it would simply be nice to forget alongside someone who understands.[break][break]

His hand shifts again. Turning just enough so that he is able to twine his fingertips with a loose strand of silver. His eyes study hers as he tucks her hair gently behind one ear—careful to drift along the shell of her ear.[break][break]

The slightest touch. Feather-light and ghostly.[break][break]

It’s a gentleness he only exhibits on occasion, and a movement that is maybe tinged with more melancholy than he means to betray. But even this feels like a humming echo. When he casts off reverberates in the center of her chest and returns to him.[break][break]

“I would confidently say your company is very much worth my while.” The edge of a teasing smirk ticks the corner of his mouth up. The hand that hovered close drops away—though not without the brush of knuckles along the soft line of her jaw, the slope of her neck. [break][break]

A hint of what other lines he could trace if given the opportunity.[break][break]

“But would you say the same of me? Enough to postpone your meeting?” Though he could be patient, he figures. If he must.

[break][break]
illeana reyes   | >:3

[attr="class","milkcredit"] [attr="class","fas fa-cookie-bite"]

[attr="class","illeana"]

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

[attr="class","illeana i"]in the end, perhaps, she's a simple creature: one that flourishes beneath a pleased expression directed solely at her.

she feels it in a faint fluttering low in the body, in how easily skin heats beneath the slightest touch, and how she looks to sink teeth into more confirmation and praise until she's gorged herself on the sensation.

"would you?"

worth his while, worth his time, worth spent energy and fleeting salvation found in another warm body... would he say she's worth it? would she believe it?

the hair around his finger is tucked behind her ear and it's gentle.

no, she decides with the motion. she wouldn't, but it's nice to play pretend for a little while.

he traces innocent lines against her jaw, her neck, and she could see the vision: the places knuckles can go, the masterpieces they can create against the canvas of a body. she feels, then, a sudden and incessant craving to be his muse, his art, all at once.

"yes."

there is no shying away from this. she sheds sheepskin with the concept of fleeting time. the resulting smile is faintly wolfish.

"consider it postponed."

and with the finality of it all, she reaches a hand up and gently rests it on his wrist. an invitation and an acceptance of the night laid out before them all in one fell swoop.

vincenzo de luca