[ It’s perfectly reasonable, and somewhere along the way there had been a few years where Verso wanted nothing more than that. He’d occasionally been lost in a bohemian malaise, trying to persuade those brave expeditioners to save themselves and turn back. The world is slowly, inexorably ending; why fight it? Who was he to stand in the way of fate?
Sometimes it feels like the only sensible thing left in the world, to simply enjoy oneself with the few meager years remaining to you. (Sometimes he wonders what’ll happen when the Monolith hits zero. Will the entire situation resolve itself without his needing to do anything? If he just waits another interminable few years, will the Canvas finally be erased; or will everyone be swept away into petals and leave him desperately alone, immortal, the Dessendres the only people remaining in this world?)
No matter. Stop worrying about it, old man. This is one of the few reliable, dependable ways to get Verso out of his melancholic head entirely: bending all of his energy and single-minded attention to pleasure instead, the taste of Sciel with his head buried between her legs, anchoring himself back in his body and someone else’s body and their shared sensation. He can’t answer her in words but he gives a humming laugh into her cunt; the curl and flick of tongue, his jaw working, one forearm balanced against her stomach to pin her in place beneath his ministrations.
He’d talked a big game earlier — his reckless mouth does have a tendency to land him in hot water — and so he’s determined to live up to the promise. ]
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Sometimes it feels like the only sensible thing left in the world, to simply enjoy oneself with the few meager years remaining to you. (Sometimes he wonders what’ll happen when the Monolith hits zero. Will the entire situation resolve itself without his needing to do anything? If he just waits another interminable few years, will the Canvas finally be erased; or will everyone be swept away into petals and leave him desperately alone, immortal, the Dessendres the only people remaining in this world?)
No matter. Stop worrying about it, old man. This is one of the few reliable, dependable ways to get Verso out of his melancholic head entirely: bending all of his energy and single-minded attention to pleasure instead, the taste of Sciel with his head buried between her legs, anchoring himself back in his body and someone else’s body and their shared sensation. He can’t answer her in words but he gives a humming laugh into her cunt; the curl and flick of tongue, his jaw working, one forearm balanced against her stomach to pin her in place beneath his ministrations.
He’d talked a big game earlier — his reckless mouth does have a tendency to land him in hot water — and so he’s determined to live up to the promise. ]