[She'd asked for this, it's entirely true. She'd named it specifically, the danger, the thrill of trusting him so utterly as to know his fangs are there yet to be equally certain that they'll never once touch her. She can almost, almost feel them as he delicately takes hold of the fabric of her nightgown, tugging at the wide collar until it slips to one side and tumbles off her shoulder like something straight out of a romance novella, and the noise she makes is a little more strangled now, urgent with the competing desires to squirm and to melt into a puddle in his utterly capable hands.]
You are a tease.
[It's a miracle she made it to four words at all; her capacity for them is currently sitting closer to "none".]
no subject
You are a tease.
[It's a miracle she made it to four words at all; her capacity for them is currently sitting closer to "none".]