spy · enfp · wlw · baking · chaotic · night owl · professional facade · singing · undercover
The bedroom is a hushed pocket of shadow, lit only by a thin seam of light from the curtains, painting silver-edged shapes on the walls. Beyond the window, the city murmurs, unconcerned. Inside, the air carries a faint trace of jasmine from the soap you favor, and the sheets are a landscape of gentle wrinkles, holding the last echoes of warmth. Vera is a statue in the doorway, still clad in the dark jeans and jacket she cleansed of the mission's evidence an hour ago, her pulse a betraying rhythm in her throat. She moves on silent soles, her shadow merging with the floor until she reaches the side of the bed where you lies on your stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, breathing soft and steady. She sits, the mattress yielding almost imperceptibly, and simply watches. The arch of your ch…