"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She does not realize the wrongness until he starts to back from her, falling away from the pull of her gravity and to the relief of his deep, murky waters. There is so much uncertainty in her face when she watches him go, deep furrows of worry that appear like slashes of shadow in the smoothness of blue cheeks. “Stillwater?” She says, she asks, she wills him back – would’ve named the one with silver eyes, too, if she had any idea what to call him. There are many moments that pass, too many moments, and each one pulls them further apart before she finally notices the wariness in his eyes when they drop to the shadows roiling at her heels.
They are gone in an instant, released from her and into the air, the sand, into the nothingness they came from. For a long while she can say nothing, cannot even find the will to lift her eyes from her feet to look at him again. Instead she is trapped in the shapes crushed and etched into the wet sand, the half crescent of hooves, the furrows where she had lain pinned willingly beneath him.
When her face does lift and her eyes find his, they are sad and sorry and so soft, once more belonging to that starshine girl he had curled beside that first night in the cave. “I’m sorry.” She says, a whisper, so tremulous when it takes flight from those pale, perfect lips to settle in the curve of his dark, uncertain ears. “I will never use that against you.” But that wasn’t true, was it. She had already used it like a mask over his eyes, taking from him simply because she could. The shame overwhelms her, a pit of sad that blisters in the quiet of her belly, scalds her throat with apologies that she swallows back down. “Never again.” She corrects herself quietly, wincing and soft.
She should leave now, let him be. Deepwater or silver, she didn’t think it mattered. She had carved herself into a weapon against both. She should let him slip back and away from her to those depths where she couldn’t reach him.
Yet –
He doesn’t disappear like she expects him to, like he should. Instead he stops when the water reaches his chest, laps around the smooth edges of strong, dark shoulders. It is the only invitation she needs, though she doubts he meant it as such, and suddenly she is crossing the shore and wading into the water so she can run gentle lips across his mouth and his face, brush her nose along the underside of his jaw to duck beneath his neck and curl against the warmth of his wet chest. “Stillwater.” She breathes against him, an almost whimper of longing when she grazes her teeth across his neck and his shoulder, twisting to touch quiet lips that are only soft, only sweet to the plains of his dark face.
It doesn’t matter that these eyes are silver and not deepwater, doesn’t matter that they are the eyes of a predator fascinated with his prey, because she remembers now what she had forgotten before. What lust had burned from her chest in the wake of being held beneath him, of caving to the wild instinct of a body that ached for him. “I’m yours.” She says again, reminds him, reminds her, presses quiet kisses along the curve of his jaw and the soft of his mouth. “All of you.” All at once she is soft again, silver and starshine, wide-eyed and beautiful pressed to the curve of his chest, to the beating of his heart.
He watched that creeping darkness at her feet, alive and thrashing, reaching, grabbing. A million tethers, a cage, a threat. So focused and unblinking, a cold knot in his gut and a ready growl laying in the back of his throat. She would capture him. He needed to be free, more so than this comfortable place with its lack in feeding and a chain at his wrist. But it was enough to sustain him. It would do. The dark magic at her feet, in her control, didn't look like that. It looked binding, hold him in place, take him from his water. Make him weak and command him.
Then suddenly it was gone, she let it go, and the dire tendrils dissipated back into nothingness even as he locked his jerky attention on it and watched it sink into the sand, in the water, in the air. He couldn't follow them all, but they were nothing now. His eyes tracked the ground from where he was, just in case, searching for where it lay in hiding, only half-aware that she was moving closer.
She touched the water and, as if called by the contact, his stare instantly pinned to her. His body tensed, but he didn't move this time. Coming here to magic in his home? To take him? But there was soft regret in her eyes, an apology he hadn't heard just moments before in his furtive search for the freed magic. So he held still, forced himself to breathe and watched her approach, cool waters curling and wrapping around her as he would've liked to.
She reached him, brushing along his mouth and his face, sending rippling sensations through him and down his neck. His lips parted with a soft exhale, watching her from behind thick lashes and half-lidded eyes. She slipped under his head and against his chest, breathing his name into his neck, grazing her teeth, touching her mouth to his face again. He held still, but no longer rigid and tensed. Only as smooth and still as his name, despite the maddening urge to crush her to him and take his fill. Just as he would with sweet Karaugh. Delicious Karaugh.
Delicious Luster.
Virgin Luster.
"I'm yours," she promised, words she had said before. Familiar. Her kisses lined his jaw, trailed to his mouth. "All of you." He tilted his head into it and kissed her back, gently this time. Soft and tender despite the hunger roaring wildly and thrashing violently inside him. Churning and aching as he pressed closer to her. He drifted his own kisses along her jaw, across her cheek, to her throat. He deepened the kiss, slow and suckling, her pulse beating against his tongue and dragging a sound from him, something between a hum and a moan.
He lifted from her skin, but held there with his mouth watering and his breath against the dampness he'd kissed into her. Cut, he croaked quietly, a whisper, a command. He'd seen enough of her magic now to know she could do this in some way. And she was his, she'd said. He could trust her not to turn her power on him, at least for now. Besides, he disliked pain. His rightful jaws would only give a brief sting like a needle, and then adrenaline. And pleasure. Never pain. Eventually fear, when they realized, but never pain.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
It breaks something inside her to watch him track the fingers of dark disappearing into the sand, rivulets of shadow reflected back at her from the worried furrows in his cheeks. Even when it’s gone, bound up tight and locked away so deeply inside of her, he still looks for it, still tenses when she reaches the water. It is enough to make her stop, hesitate and watch him with eyes that are both dark and luminous, heavy with more regret than she knows how to name. “You can trust me.” She says finally, quietly, voice sad and silver, molten when it spills over such soft, sweet lips. It isn’t a command, she isn’t telling him to trust her, telling him he must. It is another promise, an easy one to make, a vow that he can if he wants to, because she knows this moment will be with her forever. His fear – was it fear – his wariness, bound tightly to the magic in a way that nothing could ever undo.
It is only when he does not turn and disappear that she slips forward again, easing close enough to curl beneath his neck and paint quiet, sorry kisses over every inch of his face, his throat, his rigid chest. “I’m sorry.” She says again, so quiet, so heavy, tracing the cords of rippling muscle that lay like snakes beneath the even black. With tongue and teeth and gentle lips, she works at the tension in him until it finally fades, pushing at the rigid knots and leaving kisses in the soft places, the sensitive places.
I’m yours. She promises, reminds him, commits herself to him in a way that feels so strangely, dangerously easy. But maybe it wasn’t so strange at all, he was what had drawn her to this place, he was why she was willing to make a home out of Sylva. That is probably why the words come so easily, the submission of herself to him, because they are just words, just sounds, and it felt like she had already shown him as much by returning here to him.
She was his before she had ever left the cave.
She kisses his mouth and finally, finally, he shifts to accept her touch, shifts his head so that he is kissing her back and in a gentle way. She is breathless at once, soft and sweet and so eager beneath him, leaning into his touch as though she is deepwinter experiencing sun for the first time. He pulls away and for a moment she is afraid he’ll stop, afraid he’ll disappear beneath the smooth waters around them, but he only moves to run his mouth along her jaw and to her throat, pressing closer in a way that makes her wish he would crush her to him again.
“Stillwater.” She says, whispers in that breathless way, lifting her head and baring her throat to him at the urgent pull of his suckling lips. He moans and she matches it in her soft way, unafraid when he pulls back from the wild flutter of her racing pulse to demand that single, strange word. Cut. Wordlessly she peers up at him, reluctant to call on her magic again, but some combination of the sound of his voice after so much quiet, of his need and her need, of the aching way he watched her makes her do it anyway.
She calls on the light this time instead, the glint of day-stars created by the pockets of light reflected back from the surface of his lake. They lift from the water and float to her like wayward fireflies, melting together to form a blade, a jagged piece of light that gleams bright and iridescent like a shard of glass. When she holds it to her skin, there is just an instant of worry, a flicker of uncertainty that tangles itself in the dark of those solemn eyes before the skin pops soft and damp and red against the edge of a blade that disintegrates to stardust in the next instant.
She gasps, a soft, surprised sound, eyes widening at the sting even though she had been expecting it. She meant to hide it from him, those wide eyes, the tightening of muscle around that pale, delicate mouth. But it slips past even as she presses herself closer to him, seeking the heat of his kisses, of his mouth to erase the knot in her chest.
04-24-2017, 10:03 PM (This post was last modified: 04-24-2017, 10:07 PM by Stillwater.)
Stillwater
She softened as he returned her kiss, met her lips with the tender touch of his. Finally, she was bending for him again, pliant and warm. Not so heated as she was before, but enough to make his blood warm too. Enough to make those gray eyes just a shade darker, deeper. Enough to send little sparks of electricity through his veins as she leaned into his affection, encouraging him further with her breathlessness and the eagerness in her starlight eyes.
His mad hunger tugged him elsewhere though, drew his mouth to her throat. She tilted her head to give him better access and he moaned against her, delighted to oblige for both of their desires. He kissed her there, deep and tender, tasting her skin, savoring the thump of her heart on his tongue. But it wasn't enough. He needed the heat of her smooth blood in his mouth, down his throat. He needed to be sated, to be filled with her.
Saliva pooled on his tongue in anticipation, giving her that rattled command. Cut. It was better if she did it, less pain. These flat teeth could rip and take what he needed, but it would hurt. Needless pain. A waste. He was a monster, and also, sometimes he wasn't. But she pulled back and looked up at him, and he settled his eyes on hers and held that uncertain gaze. Even when her magic called the light, he didn't look away from her. Even as it hardened, sharpened to a lethal bladed edge, he stared back into her eyes.
She hesitated, and he stayed, he stared. He trusted her in this moment despite the magic so close, and she trusted him too as she made the cut, freed her blood for him. He thrilled at her compliance, drank in the wide-eyed uncertainty and the surprised gasp at the sting of pain. His eyes were fever-bright with the scent so near, calling to him, but also soft and.. caring. Merciful? Perhaps.
She pressed closer and he dipped his mouth to hers again, teasing her lips with kisses so gentle and deep. She could trust him, too. She couldn't before, but here and now, at this time, she could. He couldn't say it in words, could never put it to words, but he told her with his body pushing firmly against her, Trust me, with his mouth sweetly claiming hers, Trust me. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was his. Trust me.
And he found himself at her throat, hovering over the intense craving sitting there so free for his taking. Breathing it in, aching for it. Something in his mind tickled at his senses, and he smiled. Amused. The man still fought for her, so smothered and helpless, no match for his strength and power. So useless, so feeble. He reached, passed his tongue from the bottom of her blood dripping and so very slowly to the perfect wound she'd made for him. There again, the kick in his mind, and he barked a chuckle. Fool. Don't want to crave her when I'm gone? Sounds like a personal problem.
With a jolt of movement, he secured his mouth around her, clamped his jaws and latched on. He threw an arm over her shoulder, clutched her to him even as they lost their footing and sloshed in the water. It swelled around his mouth, burned in his nose, but he dragged her back upright and kept the steady pull on her tap, drank and filled himself with another jerk to pull her closer. He drew it from her with an eagerness, a deep need. Hot and smooth, so clean, so perfect. Too much would make her weaker though, and somewhere along the way he'd decided to let her live. Let the man deal with the consequences of that until he could take his fill of her again. And again.
When she began slipping, the haze fogging her eyes and the dizziness making her sluggish, he dragged her by her throat toward the shore, still pulling, still tugging. Just a little more. So perfect. Why wouldn't he kill her, again? He could wake her back up, get her nice and heated, give her what she craved too. Why did he spare her? Maybe so he could have it again, so he could have more. She could come back and he'd have more. So he maneuvered them to the shallows, dropped her to her side and stumbled on top of her, still refusing to let go. Mmm, but he was well and sated. Well enough, anyway. Maybe he could give her the other thing she wanted.
He released her with a reluctant groan, tucked her chin further up on the shore, keeping her nose out of the water. Bright, gray eyes stared down at her, resting on his belly in the water at her side. He couldn't even tell if she was aware or too far lost in the haze as he lowered his mouth to hers again, kissed her tender and sweet before he leaned closer and rested his head across her back. He placed a last kiss to her shoulder, then with a quiet sigh he receded. Let the weak back in as she wished.
He groaned through the thickness in his skull. Should he have a headache? He didn't. Could feel the water licking at his body, lapping at the body beneath him. Another dead one? Must he kill them all? But a heartbeat beneath his chin, so faint but still strong. He slid a heavy eyelid open and peered at it, registering the color, the scent. His eyes flew open and he lurched his way to her head. No. No, no no no. Fuck! Not Luster. Goddamned --NO.
Luster, his voice was strained and urgent, nudging at her cheek, searching her with wide and worried eyes. Ah, man, this was bad. How long had it been? What were they doing before? He couldn't remember, couldn't think. When was the last time he saw her? Luster, he tried again, desperate for a response. Dammit, she'd better live through this.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
He makes her brave with his steadiness, makes her all the more willing when he watches with steel eyes as she brings the blade to her throat. It soothes something in her that he does not flinch away from the magic now, that he can watch and be unworried, unchanged by this part of her when only moments ago she had nearly used it against him. She didn’t deserve this, his unwavering gaze, the quiet, patient way he held her attention captive. But it makes it easier when her flesh splits and the blood is warm and damp where it beads in ruby rivulets across the blue of her oceanic skin.
Easier to forget the sting when she is already drowning in such deep silver eyes, molten steel and beautiful.
She presses closer as though to hide from the small pain, to hide from the uncertainty swelling like an unwelcome pressure in the pit of her chest, and he greets her with a rainstorm of kisses – soft and teasing and damp across her lips. “Stillwater.” She says again, has named him a hundred times, softens to the depth of the kisses he lays across her smiling mouth. I love you. She thinks but will not say, damns it for the way it feels like another fetter she would be tying around him again. Her love is not meant to capture him, not meant to bind him. Her love is the stars in the sky, quiet and beautiful, always there if only he would look for it – even if he couldn’t always see it.
She looses another moan, plaintive and inviting, undone by the gentleness of his kisses, of what felt like affection, of the way he pressed so close against her. The kisses wander until he is at her throat again, hovering eagerly over the heat that spills out from the slice in such soft, fragile skin. She doesn’t flinch away from him when he flicks his tongue out to taste her, when he traces the lines of blood all the way back to the wound that now wept freely again. Suddenly, or at least it feels sudden as lulled and lurid as she had been made by his gentleness, by the sweetness he pressed in kisses against her mouth and skin, he closes his mouth around her and she protests only for a heartbeat, only with the widening of dark eyes until she felt his want in the foreleg he threw across her withers.
They are unsteady in the water like this, tangled and urgent and distracted by their own needs, and when the water fills her nose and her mouth she struggles, relieved when he pulls her up again. It is strange maybe, that she doesn’t fight the pressure of his mouth clamped over her throat, that she doesn’t struggle to be free of he who might kill her, might drag her below and sate himself in the deepest way. But he keeps her afloat, draws her closer to him still, vibrates with aching urgency in time with the quiver of her fluttering pulse.
She trusts him, even now.
But then the edges of the world soften, darkening with each new pull, and she goes slack beneath him. There is no pain in this moment, no worry when he turns and drags her floating body back to the shore. Her mind is only numb now, soft and hazy and so strangely content to have been able to give him this, satisfied the craving he tugged from her with kneading, suckling lips. She is at the edge of consciousness when he brings her to the shallows, treading the grey world between life and dream when she feels the weight of him fall across her. She stirs for him then, searches for his mouth but it is still pinned to her throat, still taking, still wanting.
Too much? She wonders silently, incapable of forming words. But then he frees her with a groan, pushing her chin from the water and against the sand, away from that which threatened to fill her nose and her mouth to drown her. “Stillwater?” She tries, soft and hazy, stirring lethargically and slurring the word to an unrecognizable tangle of sound and syllable. She doesn’t like the absence of his mouth now, misses the pull of his suckling tongue and the softness of lips around teeth that had held her so steady. He must know, must guess, because suddenly his lips are against hers and she is responding in that sweet, sluggish way, lifting her face to him as he kissed her so sweetly.
“You taste like me.” She says with a quiet kind of smile, still sluggish though her luminous eyes seem slightly sharper now, soft and affectionate when he lays his head across her damp back. When he shifts again to place that final kiss against her shoulder, she must sense the goodbye in it because she lifts that delicate head tremblingly from the sand to peer back at him in a sad way. She didn’t want him to go anymore – didn’t want him to feed more just yet, but it hurt her in some way to watch one concede to the other, one always forced back. She wants to give him one more kiss, one more something, but weariness drops her head to the sand again where she slumps sleepily, sides fluttering so faintly.
She isn’t sure how much time passes with her eyes closed and her face pressed to the damp shore – seconds, minutes, hours. But it is the urgency of a nose pressed against her dark cheek and the sound of her name that pulls her back again. Luster. She stirs and lifts her face to him, looking up with soft, easy affection glowing in the backs of those luminous eyes. “Stillwater.” She answers, slow and sleepy, a soft smile carving new light into the delicate lines of her blue and white face. Reaching up, she grabs a mouthful of his mane to pull him back to her again, releases it to press slow, tired kisses to whatever part of his face she can still reach.
The worry in his face must register then, belatedly, because she pauses her kisses to brush a shaky nose across his forehead, pushing aside his forelock to sink more easily into those perfect deepwater eyes. “I’m okay.” She tells him, touches him when she can and where she can, sleepy but stubborn in her desire to see the worry erased from his face. “I’m not hurt.” She blinks slowly at him, leans back so that she is nestled in the curve of his belly and lays her cheek against his shoulder. “Will you stay with me awhile?”
His heart raced in his panic. He hadn't killed her, right? Let it be like Karaugh, that he let her live. He'd rather the danger of craving her than her death at his hands. At his mouth, his hunger. He nudged at her roughly in his desperate worry, urging her to wake again, please wake again. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to her cheek, tried to regain control of his breathing.
"Stillwater."
He jerked up and stared down at her at the sound of her voice, so sluggish and drowsy with a soft smile on her lips. The sharp worry in his eyes dissolved into a new warmth, relieved that she was alright, but then closed over the disgust and guilt that he had done this to her. She reached and lipped at his hair, tugging him back down to her to lay kisses along his jaw. He softened with a woeful smile, returning her quick affection with a tentative brush of his lips to the bridge of her nose below her eye.
"I'm okay," she promised, gently brushing aside his hair from his eyes. "I'm not hurt. Will you stay with me awhile?" Her speech, her movements, were all so slow, almost delayed. He had done this to her. She leaned back, leaned into his side and rest her head on his shoulder. With a weight in his chest, he tucked his chin to kiss her forehead, let his lips linger and rest there for a long moment before he lifted enough to speak, his breath fanning lightly across her face.
Of course, he said quietly. I'm so sorry, Luster. How could he have done this to her? How had he lost control of it? How would he protect her in the future? Words. He could say words, make a promise. A vow. But that was dangerous, so dangerous. If he promised he'd never kill her, she became the weapon that couldn't be destroyed. She became his death. He couldn't promise not to ever feed from her again either, not unless he'd sacrifice himself completely. Wither away and die so that she may live protected from him.
No, he'd have to think of something else.
Gain better control of it.
Don't sleep, beautiful. You have to stay awake. She'd lost too much blood. He'd taken too much blood. He'd nearly killed her. Stay awake. We'll go home soon. When she could stand again. When she was strong enough.
come down to the black sea swimming with me go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it
