She let him touch her, let him hold her. No, she welcomed it.
She melted into him and he could do nothing but just stare down at her behind heavy-lidded eyes and thick lashes. Her wings stretched and coated them, covered his back in a familiar embrace that felt so soothing and safe, and had his mouth reaching for her and barely brushing across her neck. How long had he wanted a moment like this with her again? It had never felt like the right time, not after everything. Even today hadn't felt like the right time.
But he was going to take it anyway.
She twisted, her lips tentatively seeking his jaw, and he closed his eyes with a soft exhale. She felt so good. He should tell her not to, though. He should. But she spoke his name, and the warning drifted away to nothing. He loved the sound of his name on those lips. So soft and not even a hint of the terrible blackness that infused it. He could pretend he was something better, just for a while.
And she roamed over his armor -ever-growing, ever-expanding- and his head tilted back as he soaked it all in. This was a dream, wasn't it? This wasn't really happening. She was so sweet, so perfect, and he was him. Cruel and twisted, dark and wicked. He would soil her with his filthy touch, and damn him for how he would love it. He'd hate himself, maybe she'd hate him too. But god, she felt so good.
Her mouth drifted to his throat -he barely strangled a soft moan, a quiet Hnnng- and she fell lower to his chest, just above that dark heart that was beating a little faster, thumping a little louder. You are not nothing. Warm, perfect eyes met his as he looked down to her, the heat already sitting there in the coal of his. You are everything to me.
His head dipped to hers, catching her mouth with his and coaxing her higher with the taste of sweet kisses. Higher, and then back, and back, and back. So slowly he guided her, pressing kisses to her lips, both soft and firm, until she was backed to one of the many strong trees. He pushed further against her, just briefly as his face was rested with hers, his mouth so close with shallow breaths.
I'm no good for you, he swore softly, trying so hard not to think about kissing her more.
He should let her go, just let her go. Trapping her this way shouldn't feel so good. She had no idea what she was getting herself into, not with him. God, but he could remember the sound of her ragged breaths as he'd touched her, her helpless whimpers as he'd showered her in kisses and taunting little bites. They'd almost gone too far that night. He'd almost ruined her beyond repair. And he still wanted to.
You should be running from me. But he doesn't give warnings, does he? And he pressed more firmly against her again, his head tilting to take the flesh of her neck in his mouth. She tasted so good, so delicate and hot. Don't touch me, he was always demanding. Don't touch me, he was always warning. He pushed off her, backed off her, stared so deeply into those eyes with his pulse roaring, blood rushing.
Touch me. He begged.
I'll take my bow, I won't make a sound
I whisper truce as the ashes hit the ground
