eyes wide shut
Mar. 13th, 2005 01:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
emothy[mood | 
cold ]
[music | Finch - Ender ]
Inspired by this pic!
-
Carl knows how to get what he wants. He knows how to flirt and how to blackmail, how to joke around and get the right information. He knows what he wants, and how to get it when he wants it. He glances across the stage at you with those bedroom eyes, that bottom lip that sticks out, the one you know the taste of more vividly than what you had at your last meal. He curls his fingers round the neck of his guitar, fingers on frets. He can run his hand up and down, and pick at strings or hold onto them, press against them. His fingers can move right away from the guitar and he knows you'll still be seeing them moving in suggestive patterns, seeing them against your skin.
Carl knows how to make you shudder, and make goosebumps rise up all over your arms. He knows how to press a sweaty cheek to yours and almost touch lips with you when you share the microphone. He throws an arm around your neck and rests heavily on you, lowers his voice to a gravelly whisper as he speaks into your ear. Carl knows how to get you hot and bothered, make you miss a beat. He knows how to make you whimper and it takes all of your concentration not to right there in front of everyone. It's the tangles in his wet hair, the need in his voice and the blissful look on his face when you give in. Eyes shut, lips parted, and the moment the gig is over you're definitely not staying to bask in the applause. You're gasping, you're having your hips pushed against the wall and your jeans torn open, and Carl's falling to his knees, lips parted, eyes shut.
[music | Finch - Ender ]
Inspired by this pic!
-
Carl knows how to get what he wants. He knows how to flirt and how to blackmail, how to joke around and get the right information. He knows what he wants, and how to get it when he wants it. He glances across the stage at you with those bedroom eyes, that bottom lip that sticks out, the one you know the taste of more vividly than what you had at your last meal. He curls his fingers round the neck of his guitar, fingers on frets. He can run his hand up and down, and pick at strings or hold onto them, press against them. His fingers can move right away from the guitar and he knows you'll still be seeing them moving in suggestive patterns, seeing them against your skin.
Carl knows how to make you shudder, and make goosebumps rise up all over your arms. He knows how to press a sweaty cheek to yours and almost touch lips with you when you share the microphone. He throws an arm around your neck and rests heavily on you, lowers his voice to a gravelly whisper as he speaks into your ear. Carl knows how to get you hot and bothered, make you miss a beat. He knows how to make you whimper and it takes all of your concentration not to right there in front of everyone. It's the tangles in his wet hair, the need in his voice and the blissful look on his face when you give in. Eyes shut, lips parted, and the moment the gig is over you're definitely not staying to bask in the applause. You're gasping, you're having your hips pushed against the wall and your jeans torn open, and Carl's falling to his knees, lips parted, eyes shut.