02-06-2019, 03:08 AM
ryatah
hell is empty and all the devils are here
When his lips run against her porcelain skin, it evokes another involuntary tremor, from the top of her neck and down the length of her delicate back. Fear and want once again melded together, until they were so intertwined that she could no longer discern one from the other. His approval arouses something else, too, as it continues to stir to life that part of her that flourished under another’s control. She has been chaotic, recently, spiraling with no direction, desperate to fill a bottomless void, and her neverending search for what was missing continued to come up empty.
With him so close, with her life dangling at his mercy, she is suddenly remembering what it was like to to have that incessant need to please someone, and every fleeting touch is tipping her closer to the edge.
There is that same confused appreciation as the water is drawn from her skin and suspended in the air, before evaporating. Another unexplainable act of kindness, and all she can do is utter a soft, ”Thank you,”, and though the chill finally leaves her bones, there is still only a tentative gratitude, as she is becoming used to his double-edged favors.
He withdraws, again, leaving her hungry and wanting, and when her dark eyes meet his she wonders if he does it on purpose. Wonders if the way he pushes her out and draws her back in is part of it all, or perhaps the way he sprinkles the torment with peculiar bouts of generosity. But she does not reach for him, even though he is so close, close enough he would still be able to smell the the previous scent of death and feel the sudden kick-start of her pulse as it flutters beneath her pallid skin.
He asks her what she wants, and it is so tempting to say you, but she keeps the single word trapped on her tongue, and instead she asks for a much simpler desire, ”The Valley.” Her true home, the first place she had come to, where she had been the lamb living amongst wolves and yet somehow had fit in there better than anywhere else. ”I never got the chance to see it again, after going to the Dale.” And here, a small twist of an almost amused smile, her sable eyes holding fast to his red own.
With him so close, with her life dangling at his mercy, she is suddenly remembering what it was like to to have that incessant need to please someone, and every fleeting touch is tipping her closer to the edge.
There is that same confused appreciation as the water is drawn from her skin and suspended in the air, before evaporating. Another unexplainable act of kindness, and all she can do is utter a soft, ”Thank you,”, and though the chill finally leaves her bones, there is still only a tentative gratitude, as she is becoming used to his double-edged favors.
He withdraws, again, leaving her hungry and wanting, and when her dark eyes meet his she wonders if he does it on purpose. Wonders if the way he pushes her out and draws her back in is part of it all, or perhaps the way he sprinkles the torment with peculiar bouts of generosity. But she does not reach for him, even though he is so close, close enough he would still be able to smell the the previous scent of death and feel the sudden kick-start of her pulse as it flutters beneath her pallid skin.
He asks her what she wants, and it is so tempting to say you, but she keeps the single word trapped on her tongue, and instead she asks for a much simpler desire, ”The Valley.” Her true home, the first place she had come to, where she had been the lamb living amongst wolves and yet somehow had fit in there better than anywhere else. ”I never got the chance to see it again, after going to the Dale.” And here, a small twist of an almost amused smile, her sable eyes holding fast to his red own.