03-26-2016, 03:57 PM
when you fall I'll be the only one who looks away;
when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
She is breathtaking; alight with the glow of winter's caressing dawn and illuminated by the warm hearth of her own giving heart. He can feel her against him, fragile and slight, and he aches to mend her wounds with the shakily placed stitches of his hot kisses. With eyelids closed over his searing eyes, he savors the sensation of her brushing her own lips across his cheek, across his stark marking of alabaster and fire, listening to the soft rumble of her throat as she speaks gently to him. He could spend an eternity beside her, listening to her softly spoken worries and curiosities, but life never plays fair.
Her question draws a deep chuckle from him once again, rattling his throat as his thick lashes part to allow him to look at her again, taking in her doe-eyed intrigue and the soft features and how the light of morning so gracefully illuminates every sweeping line and crevice of her exquisite femininity. He is drawn to her with an urge that is altogether masculine and fueled by testosterone, though his heart drives him closer to her as he craves her presence and her every waking moment. He is taken by her, with her and for her - he cannot fathom wanting anything more.
"It is. It's the very same magic." He muses softly, though his amusement falls away as he feels her tense beside him. Her features grow much more intense by the second, filled with disdain for an unseen force that he cannot feel himself. She curls into him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, burying himself into him as if she were trying to burrow her way through is flesh and bones, to become one with him. He traces the length of her neck, nibbling what skin is left exposed to him as he caresses his jawline along her nape. He holds her close in an attempt to soothe her, but her broken words soon show him the source of her anxiety. But not now?
"No, not now. It healed the moment I stepped out of the cave; it hasn't hurt since. I remember the pain vividly but it has not bothered me in the days since." He murmurs softly to her, urging her to be comforted by his words. He can sense her hesitance and he holds her close, allowing the icy flakes that have begun falling from the sky to envelope them, cradling them in its wintry wonder as he falls into silence. He does not allow his thoughts to overpower the moment; forbidding them entrance into the intimacy of their embrace. He wants to hold onto his moment for as long as he is able. He wants to protect her, to evoke her deepest insecurities and console her with his adoring touch and quiet words.
Then I will spend every evening loving you, she says, and his heart sinks to the depths of his being. His chest begins to grow tight, taut with wisdom and angst and vexation. Love is a four letter word with enough strength to fall even the most brawny, powerful of men, and enough power to take the fragility of life and tear it into small, infinitesimal shreds. He swallows the bile that seems to linger at the bottom of his throat, bubbling with a faint thread of anxiety that trembles in his core. To love is to allow oneself to get too close, and loss was something he was not certain he could yet handle. Instead, he draws his lips across her cheek with a gentle kiss, urging her to understand his own unspoken adoration.
She falters beside him, and he watches as she crumbles within her own mind as he utters the word King. She falls away within herself, pulling away into a shell that he cannot hope to penetrate, though he will try for an eternity. He presses close to her again, urgently wanting to comfort her but she is too far gone. Insecurities simmer within her stunning doe-eyes, which he admires for a long moment as he traces the flat of his nose along his jawline before brushing away her stray locks of hair, which are now encased in soft white snowflakes. A natural leader, she utters, but not without a trace of longing and doubt and dread.
"It is a title and only a title, Isle," He murmurs softly, drawing her to him as he drapes himself over her once more, warming her with the comfort of his heat and yet at the core, ice chills him. "and though I cannot read minds as you can, I know what you are thinking. I want you, the very same that I did three days ago and even months ago. You've made me feel alive for the first time in so long," (and he would never tell her how long,) "and I want you by my side. And only you. You are here now, and that is what matters. I see strength and promise in this kingdom, and I will do what I can for my brothers - but when it is all said and done and I pass the throne to another, it is with you I will run away with into the mountains. I promise you."
Her question draws a deep chuckle from him once again, rattling his throat as his thick lashes part to allow him to look at her again, taking in her doe-eyed intrigue and the soft features and how the light of morning so gracefully illuminates every sweeping line and crevice of her exquisite femininity. He is drawn to her with an urge that is altogether masculine and fueled by testosterone, though his heart drives him closer to her as he craves her presence and her every waking moment. He is taken by her, with her and for her - he cannot fathom wanting anything more.
"It is. It's the very same magic." He muses softly, though his amusement falls away as he feels her tense beside him. Her features grow much more intense by the second, filled with disdain for an unseen force that he cannot feel himself. She curls into him, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, burying himself into him as if she were trying to burrow her way through is flesh and bones, to become one with him. He traces the length of her neck, nibbling what skin is left exposed to him as he caresses his jawline along her nape. He holds her close in an attempt to soothe her, but her broken words soon show him the source of her anxiety. But not now?
"No, not now. It healed the moment I stepped out of the cave; it hasn't hurt since. I remember the pain vividly but it has not bothered me in the days since." He murmurs softly to her, urging her to be comforted by his words. He can sense her hesitance and he holds her close, allowing the icy flakes that have begun falling from the sky to envelope them, cradling them in its wintry wonder as he falls into silence. He does not allow his thoughts to overpower the moment; forbidding them entrance into the intimacy of their embrace. He wants to hold onto his moment for as long as he is able. He wants to protect her, to evoke her deepest insecurities and console her with his adoring touch and quiet words.
Then I will spend every evening loving you, she says, and his heart sinks to the depths of his being. His chest begins to grow tight, taut with wisdom and angst and vexation. Love is a four letter word with enough strength to fall even the most brawny, powerful of men, and enough power to take the fragility of life and tear it into small, infinitesimal shreds. He swallows the bile that seems to linger at the bottom of his throat, bubbling with a faint thread of anxiety that trembles in his core. To love is to allow oneself to get too close, and loss was something he was not certain he could yet handle. Instead, he draws his lips across her cheek with a gentle kiss, urging her to understand his own unspoken adoration.
She falters beside him, and he watches as she crumbles within her own mind as he utters the word King. She falls away within herself, pulling away into a shell that he cannot hope to penetrate, though he will try for an eternity. He presses close to her again, urgently wanting to comfort her but she is too far gone. Insecurities simmer within her stunning doe-eyes, which he admires for a long moment as he traces the flat of his nose along his jawline before brushing away her stray locks of hair, which are now encased in soft white snowflakes. A natural leader, she utters, but not without a trace of longing and doubt and dread.
"It is a title and only a title, Isle," He murmurs softly, drawing her to him as he drapes himself over her once more, warming her with the comfort of his heat and yet at the core, ice chills him. "and though I cannot read minds as you can, I know what you are thinking. I want you, the very same that I did three days ago and even months ago. You've made me feel alive for the first time in so long," (and he would never tell her how long,) "and I want you by my side. And only you. You are here now, and that is what matters. I see strength and promise in this kingdom, and I will do what I can for my brothers - but when it is all said and done and I pass the throne to another, it is with you I will run away with into the mountains. I promise you."
the ice king of the tundra
OFFSPRING