01-18-2017, 12:14 AM
Leliana..
His head shook just barely, though he wasn't sure what he meant to say 'no' to. Don't speak? The not-quite-right of her name? The wrongness of what this moment was doing to him? The refusal to give his own name? Just no..
"My name is Leliana," her honeyed voice kissed him again, but he couldn't do it. There was something wrong with giving her his name, fraught with blood and death and darkness. How could he ruin her with it? It was just a name, though, wasn't it? Somehow, in that moment, it felt like more. As though he would bare himself -all his darkest secrets and blatant evils- so openly for her. And... for some reason, he didn't want her to know who and what he truly was. Her acceptance could only go so far, and he still needed more.
Just a little more.
She held so perfectly still at his bite, trying to stir her nerves, awake her senses to every barest touch of their skin. Exactly how intensely he was feeling them. Her sweet lips found the ridge of bone at his face and he shuttered her from the shame in his eyes, his breath locked tight in his lungs. Ugly. Frightening. Weapon. Death. A weapon, a weapon. Ugly. He opened them again, a deep, black ocean of vulnerability. And her soft, steady umbra stared back at him. So much innocent warmth. He needed her.
He cradled that calm gaze in his as he shifted slowly, leaning above her and moving closer until her head rested gently on the ground beneath him. He hovered over her, forearms on either side, black hair falling loosely to curtain her beautiful face. She was doing this to him. Turning him into something careful, gentle. Filing down his sharp edges to a soft, dull, smooth. He couldn't allow it. Wouldn't allow it. But he wasn't done. He still needed more.
Just a little more.
Satin-black eyes traced every delicate curve, putting every perfect detail to his empty memory. Filling all the dusty, dark spaces with her glorious light. Slowly, his head dipped and he was kissing her again; the corner of her lips, making his way to her cheek, over her eyes. Damn, he wanted her. He held his control, though, and the sweet kisses slid to her jaw, her smooth throat, a gradual line down her bare neck. Purposeful, methodical trail to the gentle slope of her shoulder where he placed another teasing bite, seeking to arouse her. He wanted to remember her. Needed to.
Then he reversed his path back, taking his time, drawing it out. He needed this. He needed her. He'd get hell when he got back, but it would be worth every moment here with her. When his lips finally returned to their place at the corner of her mouth again, he was done. Guilt for using her this way, for enjoying it so damn much and wanting more, rendered him further silent. He pressed his cheek to hers, a surprisingly painful goodbye. He was such an ass. He knew it, she would know it. There wasn't a reality where he deserved any more time with her, any more perfect memories. But she was dangerously dulling the lethal edge he must maintain.
And yet still, his husky voice escaped him. So unwisely escaped him. Ischia.
So she knew where to send her furious older brothers when she realized how deeply she hated him. And, damn, he deserved it, because he couldn't bring himself to regret any of this. He pulled away, his heart hardening to the very new and terrifying emotion budding within, and stood. Then he walked away.
Then he ran away.
Because, damn if he didn't want to stay.
His head shook just barely, though he wasn't sure what he meant to say 'no' to. Don't speak? The not-quite-right of her name? The wrongness of what this moment was doing to him? The refusal to give his own name? Just no..
"My name is Leliana," her honeyed voice kissed him again, but he couldn't do it. There was something wrong with giving her his name, fraught with blood and death and darkness. How could he ruin her with it? It was just a name, though, wasn't it? Somehow, in that moment, it felt like more. As though he would bare himself -all his darkest secrets and blatant evils- so openly for her. And... for some reason, he didn't want her to know who and what he truly was. Her acceptance could only go so far, and he still needed more.
Just a little more.
She held so perfectly still at his bite, trying to stir her nerves, awake her senses to every barest touch of their skin. Exactly how intensely he was feeling them. Her sweet lips found the ridge of bone at his face and he shuttered her from the shame in his eyes, his breath locked tight in his lungs. Ugly. Frightening. Weapon. Death. A weapon, a weapon. Ugly. He opened them again, a deep, black ocean of vulnerability. And her soft, steady umbra stared back at him. So much innocent warmth. He needed her.
He cradled that calm gaze in his as he shifted slowly, leaning above her and moving closer until her head rested gently on the ground beneath him. He hovered over her, forearms on either side, black hair falling loosely to curtain her beautiful face. She was doing this to him. Turning him into something careful, gentle. Filing down his sharp edges to a soft, dull, smooth. He couldn't allow it. Wouldn't allow it. But he wasn't done. He still needed more.
Just a little more.
Satin-black eyes traced every delicate curve, putting every perfect detail to his empty memory. Filling all the dusty, dark spaces with her glorious light. Slowly, his head dipped and he was kissing her again; the corner of her lips, making his way to her cheek, over her eyes. Damn, he wanted her. He held his control, though, and the sweet kisses slid to her jaw, her smooth throat, a gradual line down her bare neck. Purposeful, methodical trail to the gentle slope of her shoulder where he placed another teasing bite, seeking to arouse her. He wanted to remember her. Needed to.
Then he reversed his path back, taking his time, drawing it out. He needed this. He needed her. He'd get hell when he got back, but it would be worth every moment here with her. When his lips finally returned to their place at the corner of her mouth again, he was done. Guilt for using her this way, for enjoying it so damn much and wanting more, rendered him further silent. He pressed his cheek to hers, a surprisingly painful goodbye. He was such an ass. He knew it, she would know it. There wasn't a reality where he deserved any more time with her, any more perfect memories. But she was dangerously dulling the lethal edge he must maintain.
And yet still, his husky voice escaped him. So unwisely escaped him. Ischia.
So she knew where to send her furious older brothers when she realized how deeply she hated him. And, damn, he deserved it, because he couldn't bring himself to regret any of this. He pulled away, his heart hardening to the very new and terrifying emotion budding within, and stood. Then he walked away.
Then he ran away.
Because, damn if he didn't want to stay.
