death incarnate & night triumphant

He could never truly help himself when it came to Lani. The ease at which he teased her, her flushing face easily the best picture he had ever seen in his long existence. She was pure and innocent, not suited for him and yet, he was still drawn to her, even after all these years. Andras would take whatever scraps she offered him, if she merely wanted a protector and friend, he would be that for her, even if it killed him. Though, he suspected that the feelings were mutual, Lani simply having a harder time at grasping her emotions, explaining them. He wouldn't push her. So as she rounds that corner, face flushed with embarrassment at catching him shirtless, a slow grin spreads across his lips, lazily looking at her, their conversation thick with tension before he turns and pours her cup a coffee. When he strides towards her, handing her the mug, their fingers brush, Andras entirely honed in on the feeling between them, as if electricity was coursing between them. It's an effort to not grab her and drag her body against his, before taking a step back, putting more distance between them.

He leans against the counter, his hazel eyes tracking her movements as she adds sugar and milk to her coffee, the silence between them thick enough you could slice it with a knife. He finally breaks the quiet, asking how she slept, Lani's tense frame screaming nervousness at him. He wants to laugh, but he had a suspecting feeling that she would not be pleased, instead, he flashes a wicked smile, lifting the mug to his lips and taking a sip, "I didn't sleep a wink," he says cheerfully, gaze landing heavily on her. He doesn't explain, but it was true, the man had hardly slept the night before, his mind so fully wrapped up on the woman occupying his bed. He was especially worried his instincts might have taken over, drawing him to the room in a state of sleep. Not that he had ever experienced such a feeling before and yet, he was worried such a thing could happen. Over the years, he had noticed his instincts took over more often than not when it came to Lani, containing himself was a war all on its own when he was with her.

Her apology sends a bark of laughter chasing out of his mouth, gesturing with a hand, "Lani, you have nothing to apologize for. Drink as much as you want, whenever you want," he winks at her, though he suspected she wouldn't be drinking for awhile after he told her exactly what happened last night. So when her gaze continues to dark back to his chest, a smug look of purely male satisfaction stretching across his features, he can't help but mention their conversation about nude photography. The blood rising to her face is almost immediate, her cheeks coloring as she stammers out her broken questions. Ah, so she didn't really remember last night. If he were a proper gentleman he might have left it at that, but he wasn't. He wanted her to remember, to squirm, it delighted him. "Lani darling, you don't remember?" He purrs, setting the mug on the counter as he folds his arms over his chest, "You were rather insistent I promise you," he trails off before carefully, so carefully calling on that mind to mind power, establishing a link and sharing that memory, from his point of view.

He didn't hide anything as they conversed about nude photography, his gaze taking in a very flushed Lani but for different reason and everything in his vision was hazy with lust. Andras very much wanted Lani to know how much he wanted her. Once the memory is over, he draws back, having never shared that specific power with her before. It takes everything in his power to shut down his desire, even the two cold showers did nothing to cool his blood and sharing those memories was like fanning a flame. He gives her a moment to recuperate, that lazy smile still dancing on his lips as he tilts his head slightly, in that predatory way of his, "We did a number of other things too last night, things apparently, you don't remember," his grin widens slightly, darkly, "I can't be the only one who remembers such things, now can I?" He asks rhetorically, shifting to cross one leg under the other as he resumes his casually leaning.

"You kissed me too, last night," he muses, his eyes darken as he watches her, "You don't remember that either?" He questions before establishing that link again, sharing that memory from his point of view. Hardly hiding the surprise in him or his raging lust to ravage her, he perhaps lingers on the part where he practically devours her, grinding his hips into her, a touch longer than necessary before severing the connection, his fingers gripping his biceps just a little tighter than they were a moment ago. "You don't remember?" He repeats, his voice dropping slightly, a growl trying to work itself out his throat.

Andras Steinhello darling