Bastien Wolff
Yet the silver tongue and fingers of the most accomplished of men
Shall lust and hound for your heart into the wild blue of tomorrow
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Bastien watched Donovan, utterly relaxed. He snapped his fingers, breaking the tension of hte moment. "How delightfully inappropriate. Why, such a move will have you blacklisted, I should think." Bstien rose, switching Random's hand to his other, running his fingers up her arm, then her neck, and down the other side until he was bending over behind her. "Besides, what the lady wants is words like moonflowers opening to sip the sweet lunar light, words that will race and rush through the twists and splash along the turns of the searing sanguine halls beneath her skin, wrap each inch of her and fill every ounce of her, and pool in the hollows of... her... chest..." Bastien flicked his thumb over Random's collarbone, "Poetry like a passionate lover at her beck and call, prose like the memories of the sweetest embrace, so intense as to coil in the pit of her body and radiate through her limbs, until her very lips lose sense in the swarm of sensation..." Bastien ran his fingers over Random's jaw, then kissed her where her jaw met her ear, his face barely centimetres from Donovan's. "Words may follow her wherever she goes, be it bath, bed, or business." Half of his face cocked into a grin.
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Tomorrow, my love; nothing now here shall be left in that end,
but the wiles of the heart and the heat of the absence.