Kiss me again
Kiss me until I am sick of it
She focuses on dreams.
He gets lost in them.
It’s why the broken pieces of him glance at the core of her, looking for an anchor. A safe place where he can remain shattered and cruel and protected. He cares little for ambition after the hard years of struggling to just stay alive. Surviving. This is enough for him, this land of windswept flowers, a space he has carved out for himself with nothing to rely on but his own tenacity. Ruthless in his cruelty but lacking in his purpose. It’s what drew creatures like Sabra and Aela to him in the first place. Clay ready to be molded if guided by the right hand, touched in the right place.
Offspring’s fire lays dormant in his chest but he can feel it sometimes, a small coal smoldering. It ignites in the hatred for Cheri, in his bitterness for the world around him, the scorn for all those that think themselves better than he. The sins of the father lay on the son and he yearns to burn and rid itself of the icy enclosure lodged deep within his breast. The icy shriveled heart, cold and hard as it waits for the next time it can writhe in flames. The next time it can feel.
All it needs is a spark.
Somewhere deep inside of him he knows that she’s calculated every move, that she wouldn’t be doing this without some gain for herself. The need to burn weighs out every voice of reason, every coy glance from dark lashes and deep blue eyes only making him more curious. He wants to explore this strange world they are crossing over into, he can’t think of a more appropriate partner.
She stands her ground this time, the elegant curves of her dished skull turning up to him as he moves further down the soft slope of her exposed neck. Her lips brush gently against his ear as she whispers, a tremor running through his neck as the dark skin shivers from the ghostly touch. The muscle in his jaw tightening, teeth gritted. “Would it bother you if I did?” He retorts quickly, his own voice low and his breath warm as it presses against her chilled golden flesh.
He finds he likes touching her, as he brushes back the fine strands of hair that obstruct her view, and thinks he would quite like to touch her more. Would she also taste of rain and storms? Or would she taste of fire and blood? I have a proposition for you. There’s a rush of blood as her mouth lingers near his, as if she was wondering the same about him. “Oh?” He breathes quietly, his pupils dilating as the dark red iris’s flash and expand. Her almost touch hovers further down his neck, those drowning pools of blue looking back at him with almost angelic wickedness. “I’m listening.”
Obscene
@[Aela]