03-08-2017, 11:28 PM
Goddamn, he hated her.
Hated how she invited herself wherever the hell she wanted, when she was most definitely not wanted. Hated that smartass mouth of hers, even when she knew just what to do with it. God, and she definitely knew what to do with it. Hated that too, that she was so damn sexy. Hated that he could ever want her. Hated that she looked so beautiful sprawled beneath him. Yeah. Diz. Beautiful. Fucking insane.
He hated that she made perfect sense.
He just hated her.
God, but he loved that look in her eyes. Her brazen, obnoxious confidence slipped away and surrendered to him under the weight of his sweet attention, flickering with uncertainty. Nervous. That was a damn good look on her, and he craved more. He loved that she knew him, the real him, and still wanted him. No, he hated that; wanted Leliana to know him, to want all of him. But she was gone, lost forever; could never love the real him. He should just let it go, stop hoping for the impossible. Distraction, though. Sweet distraction.
But he loved to stare down at her, this new Diz he didn't know and secretly wanted to discover, this soft and warm woman that took him by surprise. Loved to drink in every delicious detail in her face as she reacted to him, as he rocked so purposefully against her. He was eager for that response, uncertain how she would take it, this other side of him she didn't know. Could she want all of him, or would she only ever desire the dark and wicked side? Damn, and he shouldn't care. Shouldn't want to know, shouldn't test it. But he did.
And so he showed her what his love could look like. Not just the wild passion, the hungry and seeking and deliciously rough. But the soft, and the sweet. The tender. All the rest of him, the missing pieces she didn't have. Passed his lips over her body so slowly, studied every beautiful edge and corner of her. Gave her some damn amazing pressure under the press of his hips.
She moaned against his neck, arched into that deliberate rock against her body. It singed him, burned straight through every fiber of his being. It laced his blood in ecstasy, spiked his heartbeat, fueled a fire that reached every inch of him. Ah, fuck. She wasn't supposed to like it, was she? Wasn't supposed to feel this damn good. But she did like it. She wanted it -he did too. And when she sighed his name, soft and aching, his breath stopped and he stared down at her, taken aback, and amended it. She didn't just want it. She wanted him.
Right?
And then she turned it on him, that gentle attention. Don't touch me, don't touch me. But he couldn't warn her, couldn't speak. His eyes closed as she pressed tender kisses into his neck, swept her cheek against his hair. He forced out a slow, shaky exhale as those soft lips finally made their way to his jaw, had to fight the urge not to turn his head and take them with his own as he groaned inwardly. Goddamn it, Diz.
This was so bad, so dangerous. She wasn't supposed to like this, he wasn't supposed to like this. She should be biting into him and tearing flesh, demanding him to get the fuck off her, returning them to the way of things that they knew. Chasing them away from this that he was suddenly afraid they could not turn back from. This, that he suddenly wanted a hell of a lot more than he should. What the hell had he gotten them into this time?
And he was afraid. Fucking terrified.
He should definitely stop. Take them back to safety.
Don't stop.
Ah, fuck, why did she have to know him?
Any pathetic attempt at restraint was dashed away in that soft little plea, any hesitation at all, if there had been. Because he definitely didn't want to stop. And he stared down at her again, starving for that face he swore he hated -When the hell did Diz get beautiful?- and he gave her another good rock. And damn he wanted to do a lot more than that. Could she see how he wanted this? Did she want it too? Not like he did.
But not yet. Not yet. And his head bent to her neck again, kissing her in a slow and sensual dance of tongue and lips as muscles rolled beneath his shoulders with another deep push against her. Dizzy, he murmured into her neck, low and needing, begging. And for once it was not a plea to make him stop; But a plea to never stop him. Don't stop this. He wanted her.
He was dangerously close to making love to her. He thought he might. He wanted to. But it wasn't love, was it? God, he didn't even know anymore. At the very least it would be some desperately amazing sex. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe he'd be able to stop after, and let her drift away and back into her brother's bed. He could do that, couldn't he? He never gave a damn about her before, he hated her each time she showed up, so maybe. Maybe things could just go back to how they were before, when they were done here. When he opened himself completely and gave her all that was left of him.
She was the only one that truly knew him.
He hated that she made perfect sense.
The burn of his careful kisses trailed up to her throat, around to the tender flesh beside her jawbone. He pinched there, just barely, so sweetly, the wet of his tongue savoring her, the graze of his teeth that knew her so intimately, the press of his lips that wanted so much more of her.
I want you, he admitted, he promised. His body heat blanketed her, his weight balancing comfortably, pressing in all the right places. He kissed her again, her cheek, gradually down toward her mouth. But he stopped just in the corner, his tongue resting in the meet of her lips with another kiss, searching her eyes to try and find what this would mean to her, if it meant anything at all.
Do you want all of me.
Hated how she invited herself wherever the hell she wanted, when she was most definitely not wanted. Hated that smartass mouth of hers, even when she knew just what to do with it. God, and she definitely knew what to do with it. Hated that too, that she was so damn sexy. Hated that he could ever want her. Hated that she looked so beautiful sprawled beneath him. Yeah. Diz. Beautiful. Fucking insane.
He hated that she made perfect sense.
He just hated her.
God, but he loved that look in her eyes. Her brazen, obnoxious confidence slipped away and surrendered to him under the weight of his sweet attention, flickering with uncertainty. Nervous. That was a damn good look on her, and he craved more. He loved that she knew him, the real him, and still wanted him. No, he hated that; wanted Leliana to know him, to want all of him. But she was gone, lost forever; could never love the real him. He should just let it go, stop hoping for the impossible. Distraction, though. Sweet distraction.
But he loved to stare down at her, this new Diz he didn't know and secretly wanted to discover, this soft and warm woman that took him by surprise. Loved to drink in every delicious detail in her face as she reacted to him, as he rocked so purposefully against her. He was eager for that response, uncertain how she would take it, this other side of him she didn't know. Could she want all of him, or would she only ever desire the dark and wicked side? Damn, and he shouldn't care. Shouldn't want to know, shouldn't test it. But he did.
And so he showed her what his love could look like. Not just the wild passion, the hungry and seeking and deliciously rough. But the soft, and the sweet. The tender. All the rest of him, the missing pieces she didn't have. Passed his lips over her body so slowly, studied every beautiful edge and corner of her. Gave her some damn amazing pressure under the press of his hips.
She moaned against his neck, arched into that deliberate rock against her body. It singed him, burned straight through every fiber of his being. It laced his blood in ecstasy, spiked his heartbeat, fueled a fire that reached every inch of him. Ah, fuck. She wasn't supposed to like it, was she? Wasn't supposed to feel this damn good. But she did like it. She wanted it -he did too. And when she sighed his name, soft and aching, his breath stopped and he stared down at her, taken aback, and amended it. She didn't just want it. She wanted him.
Right?
And then she turned it on him, that gentle attention. Don't touch me, don't touch me. But he couldn't warn her, couldn't speak. His eyes closed as she pressed tender kisses into his neck, swept her cheek against his hair. He forced out a slow, shaky exhale as those soft lips finally made their way to his jaw, had to fight the urge not to turn his head and take them with his own as he groaned inwardly. Goddamn it, Diz.
This was so bad, so dangerous. She wasn't supposed to like this, he wasn't supposed to like this. She should be biting into him and tearing flesh, demanding him to get the fuck off her, returning them to the way of things that they knew. Chasing them away from this that he was suddenly afraid they could not turn back from. This, that he suddenly wanted a hell of a lot more than he should. What the hell had he gotten them into this time?
And he was afraid. Fucking terrified.
He should definitely stop. Take them back to safety.
Don't stop.
Ah, fuck, why did she have to know him?
Any pathetic attempt at restraint was dashed away in that soft little plea, any hesitation at all, if there had been. Because he definitely didn't want to stop. And he stared down at her again, starving for that face he swore he hated -When the hell did Diz get beautiful?- and he gave her another good rock. And damn he wanted to do a lot more than that. Could she see how he wanted this? Did she want it too? Not like he did.
But not yet. Not yet. And his head bent to her neck again, kissing her in a slow and sensual dance of tongue and lips as muscles rolled beneath his shoulders with another deep push against her. Dizzy, he murmured into her neck, low and needing, begging. And for once it was not a plea to make him stop; But a plea to never stop him. Don't stop this. He wanted her.
He was dangerously close to making love to her. He thought he might. He wanted to. But it wasn't love, was it? God, he didn't even know anymore. At the very least it would be some desperately amazing sex. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe he'd be able to stop after, and let her drift away and back into her brother's bed. He could do that, couldn't he? He never gave a damn about her before, he hated her each time she showed up, so maybe. Maybe things could just go back to how they were before, when they were done here. When he opened himself completely and gave her all that was left of him.
She was the only one that truly knew him.
He hated that she made perfect sense.
The burn of his careful kisses trailed up to her throat, around to the tender flesh beside her jawbone. He pinched there, just barely, so sweetly, the wet of his tongue savoring her, the graze of his teeth that knew her so intimately, the press of his lips that wanted so much more of her.
I want you, he admitted, he promised. His body heat blanketed her, his weight balancing comfortably, pressing in all the right places. He kissed her again, her cheek, gradually down toward her mouth. But he stopped just in the corner, his tongue resting in the meet of her lips with another kiss, searching her eyes to try and find what this would mean to her, if it meant anything at all.
Do you want all of me.
