ALECTO: What time are you getting home tonight?
ALECTO: I'm coming over.

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ALECTO: What time are you getting home tonight?
ALECTO: I'm coming over.
ALECTO: are you busy right now?
CORBAN YAXLEY // @cyaxleymp
The word has just begun to tilt when she feels their hands around her waist, feels them pulling her against them. It’s too early in the night for a rescue, but she doesn’t tell them no, not yet. Slender arms raise above her head and reach for theirs, manicured fingers tangling in their hair. Corban stands behind her, still taller even with her heels. She likes it, likes it enough to take a step backwards towards them, until the curve of her ass finds a place against their body. “Dance with me.” Alecto is drunk, but she’d still let them dance with her, she’d let them do more than that if they asked. But they never do, and when she does a familiar gentle rejection leaves their lips, but the desire never leaves their eyes. It makes her curious, even makes her want them. But they’ll probably tell her she’s too far gone to even dance, and they’ll probably be right but she certainly won’t care.
CORBAN YAXLEY // @cyaxleymp
Beneath the sultry notes of her perfume, she smells like their soap. She doesn’t remember much of the night before, but she’s sure they carried her out of the party themselves. She awoke in their bed alone, knowing they had slept on the couch as they did every time. She never protested, because she knew deep down, there was something about having her in their bed that did something to them, satisfied a the tiniest bit of one of those needs they tried to hide. She didn’t make it easy on them. She was awake enough to know they’d seen her laying there when they slipped into the shower that moment, the sheets pushed down, so it barely covered the curve of her naked ass. She had to admit she was impressed with their control. They’d need a bit of it tonight too. When she’d asked them to get her a dress and makeup for the reunion she wasn’t surprised to hear there was already someone coming over with options. Of course she’d had to choose the one with the lowest cut, the black material draping elegantly down her frame. She hadn’t seen them since that morning, and she knew that they wouldn’t be surprised by how she looked, but she could still enjoy the look in her eyes when they saw her. She came up from behind them at the bar, the click of her heels lost in the clamor of the room, so she wasn’t actually surprised they didn’t hear her until she spoke, calling over their shoulder to the bartender who’s attention they had yet to capture. “One vodka on the rocks, grey goose.”
🕸
🕸 Do you have any phobias?
“Is fear of failure a phobia? Got that one drilled into me at school, not by anyone else, though. Just…I wanted to be someone. I still do.”
🚬
WHAT WOULD CONSIDER YOUR WORST HABIT?
“Probably feeling bad for myself. I mean, I consider myself a pretty positive person, and I really try not to, but sometimes its hard not to let the world get you down, you know? And I have so much, really so much, and I wish I could just remember that when I’m tempted to throw myself a little pity party. I try.”