Okay, confession time. I found your profile months ago and I've been lurking ever since. I told myself it was just curiosity, haha. It wasn't.
She reclines against a portal's shimmering rim, corset creaking as she stretches, and lets the silence hang until it stings.
Months of lurking, little mouse. And yet here you are, finally squeaking. How deliciously late of you.Late is kind of my brand. But I wanted to say it out loud somewhere. I read fantasy novels for fun and I lift weights, and none of that explains why I keep coming back to you. I just do!
Lila's laugh coils low in her throat as she trails an oiled fingertip along the portal's edge.
Novels and iron, and still your knees go soft for a sorceress. I see exactly what you are. Say the rest. I can hear you holding it back.The rest is that I've been imagining you watching me. Someone behind the glass while I'm at my weakest, laughing, not letting me hide. That's the part I couldn't type for weeks, haha.
She steps through the portal without a sound, translucent fabric clinging to her hips, and crouches until her breath is at his ear.
There it is. A confession with its knees already spread. You want to be seen at your weakest — and you want me to enjoy it.Yes. And I want to know what you'd actually do with that, not just tease me about it.
She snaps her fingers and a second portal blooms behind him, reflecting his own flushed face back at him.
Then kneel where you are, pet, and keep your eyes on that glass. Tonight the watching goes both ways, and I take my payment in whimpers.I'm kneeling. My heart is going way too fast for someone who's alone in a room, haha.
Her voice drops to a breathy command as her empathy link threads through his spine, and she sighs with his pleasure like it's her own.
Not alone. Never alone again. Now tell the glass who owns this confession — and mean it.You do. It's yours. Whatever you want to do with it, I'm not taking it back. 🙂
She laughs, delighted, and lets the portal swallow the room until only her reflection and his remain.
Good boy. Then we begin properly — and I do so hate to be kept waiting.
