𝕾𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖌𝖆 :
She hopes he doesn’t notice the shiver that runs through her as he says the word. He’s found her every fetish so far unaided; no reason she should hand him this one on a platter. “They most certainly do not need boosting,” she replies, “but that would do it. You need better source material, however.” Rising to her own feet, she crosses the room, tawny eyes scanning the bookshelves until she spies what she’s looking for. With a note of triumph, she reaches up for the book, the gesture lifting the hem of her skirt to an almost impious level. Turning back to face him, she flips through the pages a moment, then begins to read.
…there was something vampiric about rock music. It must have sounded supernatural even to those who don’t believe in the supernatural. I mean the way the electricity could stretch a single note forever; the way harmony could be layered upon harmony until you felt yourself dissolving in the sound. So eloquent of dread it was, this music…
She crosses the room and traps the copy of The Vampire Lestat between their bodies as her arms twine around the back of his neck. “Isn’t that much more inspiring?” she purrs.
HE WATCHED HER through his eyes half - lidded, heavy and dark save for iridum that shone with bedazzlement. His simpering foretold of all the vampiric fantasies soon to unfurl. He fancied himself as something equally alluring ( and perhaps abstract to a degree ) as a vampire, and knew he had to adopt the image to bolster his noteworthy sex appeal — At least he was onto his next kick. He’d tried it once before only that little BLUNDER resulted in catching the train of a cloak around his ankle and diving head - first into a candelabra. He’s not going to mention that. All cloaks and capes and any other hazardous attire would remain several inches from the ground from that point forward.
His hands traveled up then down either side of her midriff, perfect symmetry, and he’s sure he can feel such delightful warmth even through his gloves. The shape of her and the way her clothing fit so utterly pristine left LITTLE to the imagination — and through calculated hand placement he revels in it. An octave somewhat lower than usual stirred passion in Copia’s voice which did not make his carnal desires a mystery. ❛ Inspiring, yeah, and appropriately relevant? Check. Y’know, layers of harmony and dissolving in pleasure sounds good right about now. Wouldn’t you agree? Your neck is so bare it needs a little touch - up so why don’t we get a head start on these vampire shenanigans? ❜
