04-20-2016, 07:47 PM
It's probably for the best that I'm no shifter, or I would be melting into a puddle on the ground. I can't remember the last time I felt so relaxed; even the twitching of over-used muscles feels exquisite, and my eyes drift closed as I bask in the sun. I ache in ways I half-hope last forever, and I can still feel Jack's teeth on my skin and the marks he left behind. I left my share too, and a tired little spark flickers inside me as I remember the hungry sounds he made when I did. A wicked grin curls the corners of my lips.
“I could easily fall into you and drown.”
His words are unexpected, and I'm honestly not sure what to do with them. Puzzled, I meet his gaze, those summer sky eyes of his narrowing a little. I don't need pretty words, sweet nothings murmured in the aftermath of raw passion. I don't expect anything from him (except perhaps a repeat performance once we've both recovered from the first one, that is), and I don't need empty endearments. But I don't think that's what he's giving me, either.
It would feel careless to quip something clever and suggestive in response to those inexplicably serious words. The only thing I can think to offer him is the gentle brush of my lips against his cheek, a lingering caress that offers no promises and simply accepts his words with solemn grace.
He trails soft kisses across my face, and something small and surprising and tender stirs inside me. Those pretty words start to make just a little bit of sense as I feel his lips curl into a smile against my skin. His next ones distract me though, and I breathe out a gentle laugh. All the times I screamed his name, I was using the wrong one. I guess we'll have to make up for that next time, won't we?
“Well. It's nice to meet you, Pazuzu.” I purr his name for the first time, and it feels good on my tongue. A little bulkier than 'Jack,' but there's the lovely buzzing vibration in the middle that might make it fun to moan in aching desperation. “Mmm, Pazuzu,” I test it out, my voice going breathy with the echoes of desire. “Okay, yeah, I'm going to enjoy that.” I grin up at him, and somehow it's already been too long since I touched him because I want his skin on mine again, want the taste of him on my lips, want the weight of his body pressed against me.
Maybe this is what he meant about drowning.
“I could easily fall into you and drown.”
His words are unexpected, and I'm honestly not sure what to do with them. Puzzled, I meet his gaze, those summer sky eyes of his narrowing a little. I don't need pretty words, sweet nothings murmured in the aftermath of raw passion. I don't expect anything from him (except perhaps a repeat performance once we've both recovered from the first one, that is), and I don't need empty endearments. But I don't think that's what he's giving me, either.
It would feel careless to quip something clever and suggestive in response to those inexplicably serious words. The only thing I can think to offer him is the gentle brush of my lips against his cheek, a lingering caress that offers no promises and simply accepts his words with solemn grace.
He trails soft kisses across my face, and something small and surprising and tender stirs inside me. Those pretty words start to make just a little bit of sense as I feel his lips curl into a smile against my skin. His next ones distract me though, and I breathe out a gentle laugh. All the times I screamed his name, I was using the wrong one. I guess we'll have to make up for that next time, won't we?
“Well. It's nice to meet you, Pazuzu.” I purr his name for the first time, and it feels good on my tongue. A little bulkier than 'Jack,' but there's the lovely buzzing vibration in the middle that might make it fun to moan in aching desperation. “Mmm, Pazuzu,” I test it out, my voice going breathy with the echoes of desire. “Okay, yeah, I'm going to enjoy that.” I grin up at him, and somehow it's already been too long since I touched him because I want his skin on mine again, want the taste of him on my lips, want the weight of his body pressed against me.
Maybe this is what he meant about drowning.
Daeryssa
of the restless heart
