#perfectfoil

KATE ATKINSON as VERA BENNETT

the drill sets off as the screw spirals deep into the wood,  submerging itself further and further,  slowly tucking itself in tight as heat continues to flare across saren’s cheeks.  her pulse pounds away,  shattering her eardrums far more than the sound of her tools as she tries to busy her hands,  moments prior flooding in like they always do,  the vivid images of nothing but vera,  vera,  vera.  the taste still prominent on her tongue,  clinging to every muscle and causing more salivation.  fingers burn into the tool,  the memory of vera’s skin soft,  smooth and warm,  stretching on for days as she feels the bolts of electricity from the very tips of her fingers,  right down and into her wrist as it surges through her being.  the sounds and distinct glint in each eye that has saren all but lost in a trance;  even when one were to shy away,  the stretch at the corner of vera’s mouth never went unnoticed,  nor did the crinkles that formed round each eye,  the rise in her chest and the shift in her body squirming beneath.  her grip on the drill loosens,  the sounds of whirling slowly dispersing as she lets it thud to the floor.  her head only grows heavier,  the desperate need to occupy the burning hunger she’d already fulfilled;  and yet,  was still all but starved for more,  more,  more.

𝟺𝟶𝟶  𝚁𝙰𝙽𝙳𝙾𝙼  𝙳𝙸𝙰𝙻𝙾𝙶𝚄𝙴  𝙿𝚁𝙾𝙼𝙿𝚃𝚂 .            sent by @perfectfoil​

“    is being drunk an excuse?    ”

i can’t say no to her question,  i’d be a hypocrite.  one reacts without thinking when they’re feeling far too bold,  it’s what liquor did;  heightening all the right and wrong senses till they blurred.  jim briefly comes to mind;  a pathetic desperation all but leaking out of the shell he claimed was a man.  i would’ve  (almost)  felt sorry for him,  if he hadn’t crossed the line.  it’s still clear as day;  that hunger in his eyes,  the same one i’d seen each time he looked to a bottle,  the same look i’d seen in eyes of those who stole innocence and mortality.  it’s not the same look in vera’s eyes,  no.  i rarely saw that look in a woman’s, theirs weren’t as threatening ― vera’s least of all.  softer,  kinder.  even now,  all doe eyed and eager.  i’d fuck her now,  press her up against the wall,  part her thighs and show her again and again.  she wouldn’t remember a single thing.  morning would come,  i’d be gone ― she’d be struck with something heavy pounding on her head as she tries to piece together what’d been caught in the early hours all tongue tied and toe curling.  it shouldn’t bother me,  i did this all the time.  a sweet night.  vera was no different to that.  she wasn’t.  and yet,  it felt all too much like the tide slowly rolling over bare feet and dragging me with.

“you’ll regret it,  come morning.”     a beat,  a pause.     “let me save you the trouble.”     i know it all too well.  i’ve seen it one too many times from the straight girl caught up in liquid luck,  feigned shock comes morning light ― soon it’s forgotten.  this shouldn’t bother me.

KATE ATKINSON as VERA BENNETT

KATE ATKINSON as VERA BENNETT

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