— closed psl directory

[dilettante]

REEVE & LAYLA

picture prompt meme » 06/05

sexting meme » 06/17

100 non verbal prompts » 07/04

CODE

Comments

[dilettante]

( despite clinging onto him as if he were truly a life preserver, she easily slipped out of her shoes, the cold floor beneath them cooling her bare feet. it was all so simple and yet elegant, much like he was and in a way she couldn't help but smile as it became clear she was truly the only woman in his life [would she remain this confident for long? only time would tell]. as they wandered in though, she looked up at him and smiled in return, her face flushed with a soft warmth as she hanged onto every single one of his words. )

Is that right?

( he might have not been implying anything more than the two indulging in tender affection such as kissing and cuddling, but to reira who saw love and romance in everything, it seemed he might have been implying something far more sorted. the idea of sleeping with him after finally being his was appealing after all, and she took no offense to such a thought. )

How about a glass of wine, to celebrate us....finally being a couple? I'm....I'm really happy about that you know?

( wherever he was leading them, soon she released him from her grip, opting to grab his hand instead as she followed along, a seductive sway to her walking. )

[luckyroll]

[ Reeve leads Layla through the apartment. He doesn't want to let go of her hand, so he doesn't. Only when they step into the kitchen does he glance down at their linked fingers with a quiet laugh and have to let go. ]

You know, it’s a little embarrassing that I might not remember how to use half the appliances in here, but I can at least manage wine.

[ The kitchen is sleek, with marble and brushed steel. There's more than enough counter space for meal prep, though it's clear he rarely does. There are no signs of earlier mess, no dirty glasses or dishes. Just a pristine space waiting to be made properly lived in. Reeve reaches toward a recessed cabinet and pulls free a bottle of unopened red, letting his thumb run along the edge of the foil before reaching for the corkscrew nearby.

Before uncorking, he flips on a small, in-wall speaker, filling the quiet with a soft hum of classic rock— something mellow with guitars that drift like the industrial haze beyond his high-rise windows. He talks while he works, his tone easy and a little distracted by the thought of what'll be happening between them next. ]

I bought this on impulse a while ago. I was told it was good, but it felt like too much to enjoy on my own. Good thing you're here to help me with it.

[ He levers the cork free with a satisfying pop and pours two glasses, color blooming against crystal. Turning back to Layla, he hands one off carefully to her then gently clinks glasses. ]

To us, then.

[ His arm comes to sweep around her waist, drawing her in until their bodies nestle a little closer. He smells like faded cologne and fabric mist, tension coiled beneath the collar. ]

—And our happiness, as a couple.

[dilettante]

( as her hand slipped from his, she followed behind him and watched him with soft eyes. despite the fact that his home might have seemed sterile, polished, and unlived in, it felt like home to her. far more warm and far more comforting than any other place she had been in whether it was her family home in wutai, or her own apartment, but it felt safe. it was because he was here, illuminating the place like the sun. he had truly done such a wonderful job at quelling her sadness and worries over singing, but far beyond that she was in love, madly in love with him to the point where she couldn't just drink wine, have a few kisses with him and call it a night. she wanted to cement that feeling and as he began to pour the wine, her eyes drifted down towards the glasses. )

I want you to share all of these things with me Reeve....I'll always be here to help you with anything.

( maybe it was naive to say such things, to give her heart away so easily but she couldn't help it. she had been holding back for so long and to finally be accepted, to feel these feeling be reciprocated—

well it made her forget everything and everyone else. for now.

as she scooped up her own glass, she clinked alongside him before allowing herself to be embraced in such a manner, looking up at him with gentle eyes, inhaling the smell of the fresh wine and his natural scent. )

To us.

( she said before taking a sip of her own; when he finally took one, she placed her glass down and reached for his tie, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. her sadness was now truly faded, transformed into desire. )

[luckyroll]

[ It happens now. Reeve hadn’t expected her to take the lead. When Layla’s thumb presses into the tongue of his tie, it disarms him in a quiet but devastating way. He sets his wine glass beside hers on the counter, sparing only the quickest glance to ensure it meets a surface safely.

Then he leans in, tongue lightly brushing the seam of her mouth, soft and unhurried, stealing her breath into his own. His hand finds the back of her hair, fingers threading through the impossible length of it. Cascades of pink silk, as long as that of goddesses in oil paintings, of muses carved into marble by hands long since turned to dust. She fits perfectly against him. Layla herself is art.

He follows the fall of her hair with a touch that memorizes as it moves, already mapping the layout of his home behind his closed eyes as he steps her backward, guiding without pressure, until her hips meet the edge of the kitchen island.
Fine— for now. A place for her to sit.

Without a word and lost to the hush of want blooming inside him, Reeve eases her carefully onto the cool marble ledge. His mouth slips from hers to trail down the delicate line of her neck. When it finds the pearls settled at her collar, he draws them gently between his teeth, lips brushing her skin, before he unclasps the necklace and lets it fall into his waiting palm.

He sets the jewelry aside, face up, ever attentive. The rose-colored crystals catch the kitchen light and throw it back in faint reflective sparkles. Reeve’s hand travels up the slope of Layla’s thigh, pushing her skirt to mid-length until white nylon greets him; two thigh-high stockings, delicate and sheer. Something hidden, but selected.

He pauses there when he sees them, fingers curling softly against the curve of her leg, and he wonders— these, maybe, he’d like her to keep on. He plucks at the elastic gently, a flirtatious snap against her skin, and watches her for a reaction. His gaze lingers, not just in desire, but in admiration. ]