[ His phone pings not with her response but with a new notification from the same application — it's her turn to be exposed for thinking about him. With that same tight feeling swooping through her belly, her mind fills in the blanks he left her to imagine: her knuckles paled from clutching the strap around her wrist; an attempt to throw her leg around him easily countered by his strength; her thigh pinned back down to the bed with a firm grip; and her voice strained around breathless pleas.
Clinging to optimism, she has to operate under the assumption that her own fantasies are still private. ]
[ Alert read, Lorca sits back at his desk in Victrix. Stiff, teeth clenched, throat dry. He's not distracted — he's been struck. Blow for blow.
But did she fire by choice? Or by instinct?
Her fantasy rolls through him, lapping at the confines of his skin. He adds and alters nothing, even once his mind floats back to the surface. Lorca grabs up the nearby tumbler glass, drains the scotch, then takes his device in hand again. ]
no subject
Clinging to optimism, she has to operate under the assumption that her own fantasies are still private. ]
That wasn't the same train of thought.
no subject
But did she fire by choice? Or by instinct?
Her fantasy rolls through him, lapping at the confines of his skin. He adds and alters nothing, even once his mind floats back to the surface. Lorca grabs up the nearby tumbler glass, drains the scotch, then takes his device in hand again. ]
Wasn't it?
no subject
Was it for you?