I've learned to live with these fatal gifts
and still you're mine
He doesn’t know how or why every time feels like the first and last, but he does not question it. Does not wish to delve too deeply into the truth of their need for each other. There is too much the beast in him for him to want to understand the full import of those encompassing emotions.
She is his and that is all that matters.
It’s so easy. So incredibly natural, this wanting. As though it is the only thing that truly matters (there is more, of course, but in the moment, it may as well be). The entire world (entire universe) disappears and it is only the two of them. Just the comforting press of the shadows as they close around them and the inviting heat of her smooth, dark skin. His lips are eager and hungry as he presses them to the satin of her flesh, tasting every curve and hollow that he can reach.
And she touches him in kind, stirring the beast that lies so close to the surface, ever present, yet so easily tamed by her. Though she might hold it’s leash in her delicate grasp, it would never truly be absent. Would never miss the opportunity to claim it’s chosen mate. And Ether had long ago stopped trying to quell those basest of instincts.
He presses impossibly closer, the length of her against the cool darkness of his own flesh causing a fire of need to rage within him. His eyes gleam vibrant and yellow in the darkness, the only part of him easily discernible in the dim light the shadows allow through. But she could feel him, no doubt. Could feel every inch of him pressing against her just as he can feel her.
His lips trail the delicate curve of her spine, lingering on her hips, sharp teeth teasing and gentle on her skin, soothed easily by kisses. He wanted to claim every piece of her. Remind her over and over again just how irrevocably his she is. Remind her how much every inch of her desires his touch.
Remind her just exactly what forever could feel like.