a dark place where morality meet its fate, the nightclub aptly finds its name in the neon twist of glass, chemicals, and fluorescence, dubbing the elite graveyard as REVELATIONS. it’s not old, nor is it new, but the secretive yet obstreperous atmosphere of the unique mix of grifters and socialites rivals that of a prohibition-era speakeasy. it’s a place where one can escape to a realm far beyond the safety net of responsible decisions. the bathrooms weren’t for relieving oneself, nor did clasped, sweaty palms and hushed whispers sneak off into the clandestine vip sections to make c o n v e r s a t i o n. even with the strength of her striking beauty, sharp intelligence, and the unforgiving cut of her six inch heels, apprehension bleeds from her mind and lips. in their proximity, daring fingertips ghost over the dip of her spine, the tension that paralyzes her body and her desires practically tattooed onto unblemished skin with the way alejandra lets it control her. despite her reservations, the soft lips speak a different story against his skin, and perhaps if he were a better man, he’d give her a full-disclosure warning of what’s to come. but neither of them showed up tonight to play it safe, and they both knew that. the question sounds like the the last drop of drying ink of a soul-binding contract, prompting fingertips burn a trail from his pocket to his bottom lip, and this time when he leans in, his mouth betrays no ounce of innocence. ‘trust me.’ the slightest shift backward, and honey eyes meet irises blacker than the night to convey exactly what he means– not tomorrow, not even any time past that, just TONIGHT. it’s both the closest thing to a warning from him she’ll ever receive and a reassurance, because in the next moment, like icarus gravitating faster and faster toward his fate with reckless abandon, rafael ducks his head to slot their lips together. the dangeorus path his tongue takes is too pointed for it to be a genuine kiss, glancing over the sharp ridge of teeth to slip under her own, leaving a promise of the first rule in its wake.
╚ ❀ — the atmosphere is beginning to grow on alejandra. she reminds herself that she A S K E D for this -- a peak into a life unlike her own. she wanted this -- a break from being alejandra luciana castillo, the optimistic, usual good girl with goals bigger than herself. she forces herself to breathe slower, inhaling for three counts & then exhaling. the music reverberates through her body, adding to the vibrations her nerves already cause. TRUST ME. the words are loaded like a gun, both an asset & a death sentence. giving away her trust away always feels bigger than the moment she gave up her virginity. yet, in T H I S moment, alejandra chooses to hand it over for the night. in the back of her mind she knows tomorrow will yield consequence after consequence, but she pushes that aside. she puts her brain on autopilot, living in the moment rather than analyzing every decision. maintaining their proximity, alejandra murmurs softly, “ i do. ” & the words feel more like an act of submission, ones she may grow to regret. but now, the admission feels F R E E I N G. his lips against her own are unexpected, a soft gasp emitting from them. she returns the kiss that tastes rougher & dirtier than others she’s had. there’s no promise behind it as alejandra allows herself to be pliant, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. & she is the first to tear them apart, pulling back just slightly so their lips no longer touch. her breathing’s ragged, tongue poking out to lick at her reddened lips. “ was that rule number three ? or, were you trying to curb some curiosity about what T H A T would be like ? ‘cause sometimes i wonder if all our little arguments had an underlying sexual tension. ” alejandra jokes, a small smile tugging at her plush lips as she already feels more relaxed.
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