you could rattle the stars.
you could do anything,
if only you dared

The growl that so leaves Lazarus's lips is sent skittering down her spine as she continues her administrations on his neck, all too aware of the way his other hand finds her bare skin beneath her shirt, his hands trailing dangerously close to her breasts. She's momentarily distracted by the way Laz pushes into her, to reveal just how much he wanted her; there was somewhere in the back of her mind that was distinctly pleased that she was affecting him just as much as he was affecting her. His palm beneath her underwear is a burning sensation as she feels him grip her a touch harder as her own hands slip up behind his neck, her fingers tangled in the strands of his hair, pulling them slightly in wanton lust. And as she moves to kiss him bite him along his neck, she can feel the way his hand begins to move again under her shirt, his fingertips trailing across her breasts as another moan escapes her mouth. Vhalla wanted more as she quickly removes his jacket and his shirt, only to have her own shirt follow suit, her bare breasts exposed to the cold air, the tips of her breasts peaked from a combination of cool air and lust.

They pause for a mere moment as Lazarus takes the sight of her in before Vhalla practically launches herself at the man once more, her kisses exploring the expanse of his chest, Lazarus's hands coming down to cup her bottom once more. The woman tilts her head up, heated eyes searching his before the Hunter is devouring her lips again, the assassin returning those kisses with renewed vigor, only to let his name fall from her lips in a plea. Clearly, it was all Lazarus needed before he's lifting her from the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist so she wouldn't fall, her lips still locked with his, not allowing them to break contact. Truly, the woman would have hardly cared if Lazarus slammed her into a wall, she was far too wrapped up in her desire, she wouldn't have minded being taken in the hallway at this point. Even in her drunken stupor and the lust that so grips her, she hardly realizes he is leading them to the bedroom, that bed she had so shunned for well over a year, a forgotten thought in the back of her mind. Even when he lays her down on it, Vhalla hardly notices it, her blue eyes entirely locked on Laz as he bends over her, his hand planted next to the side of her head.

Unwrapping her legs from his body, her chest rises and falls rapidly, those blue eyes glowing with a ravenous hunger as she watches him carefully, her skin itching to be touched. His other hand is quick to slip those black boxers from her legs, the lost piece of clothing she had been wearing, and now she was entirely naked before him, sprawled out on the bed, ripe for the taking. Her white hair is spooled around her head as she slips a hand up to grasp his muscled forearm, the one next to her head, merely just wanting to touch him. What she doesn't expect next is for his other hand to touch her there, her back immediately arching at his skilled fingers, a low moan escaping those plump lips of hers, her hand wrapping tighter around his forearm as if she were urging him on. "Laz," she garbles his name in desire as she instinctively bucks her hips in his direction, his name on her lips like another plea as she urges him to push her over that edge. The woman had never been touched like this; Lazarus was far more skilled than he had ever let on and Vhalla had never enjoyed being touched; at least until now.

It doesn't take long before she reaches that peak, her body succumbing to those waves of pleasure as she digs her nails into his forearms, that moan growing louder before her arm drops back to the bed, limp from the ordeal she had just been through. Flicking her eyes open barely, she takes in Lazarus's bare chest, Vhalla propping herself up on her elbows as she watches him hungrily, stealing a kiss in the process, that gaze traveling ever lower to see that he was enjoying himself just as much as she was. "I hardly think it's fair that only one of us is naked," She drawls lazily, a roguish grin toying at the corner of her lips as she pushes herself into a seated position, Laz standing between her legs as she slowly slips his belt out, the metal clattering to the floor before she's working on the button of his jeans, the zipper following soon after. Slipping her slender fingers into that loose waist line, she shimmies his jeans to the ground so the man is merely left in his undergarments.

And rather than slipping those fingers into the waistband of his underwear, Vhalla, with a wicked grin, merely places her hand on top of his manhood, gripping gently through that thin fabric, her blue eyes turning up to his face to see the reaction she can so coax forth. "I'm not sure you want me," she purrs up at him teasingly, her brows arched in a suggestive manner, though other... body parts were otherwise telling a different story. How she wanted him. How she wanted him to ravage her.

Vhalla Solarn

To the stars who listen- and the dreams that are answered