11-04-2017, 09:24 PM
Ellyse
I have the tendency of getting very physical,
so watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle.
so watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle.
The warmth of his breath brushing across her shoulder is a source of comfort; soothing whatever restless and wayward wariness still lingered within the pit of her stomach. She is weary and worn, pressing into his affectionate embrace, and it is only within his presence that she can permit her guard to slip – to allow the façade of her indifference to falter. Even when her heart had belonged to another, she had sought him out, seeking the security of his presence and the reassurance of his caress, however light, however innocent. She had been foolish to imagine it chaste; to not see the way her heartstrings were so easily plucked by him and how easily he could chase away the shadow of her doubt, of her insecurity.
His lips and teeth brush across her own back in turn, and a shiver stirs her pale feathers, bristling as the salty ocean breeze drapes over their silhouettes, while the distant sun begins to dip beyond the horizon, bathing each of them in a splendor of amethyst and indigo. Quietly, her lips begin to press more firmly along the darkness of his spine, tracing it slowly, inhaling the scent of the island clutching to his skin. The dogwood, the sagebrush, the brine of the sea itself envelope her, drawing her closer to him, and a kiss is placed deliberately in the crease where the curve of his leg is met with the muscle along his hip, before encircling him.
Her feathers press along the ridge of his barrel in stark contrast – pale ivory to dark obsidian, and all the while, her cheek is pressed against his shoulder. The golden flecks of her eye reflect the warmth of the falling sun, while she observes the rounded curve of his jawline, brushing her pale lips along the column of his neck. Her caresses are slow, unhurried and gentle, and so unlike her. Even when she had tucked herself against him beneath a canopy of starlight, or fallen asleep beside him near to the frothing seafoam, lapping lazily along the shoreline, she had hidden away from the warmth he naturally drew from somewhere deep within. Buried. Hidden.
She was tired of hiding.
”Do you remember when we first met?” she murmurs softly against the shadow of his skin, her gaze averted, focused on the glimmer of the waning sunlight across the restless, tinted seawater. There is a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and a glint in her eye. ”You were moping by a lava stream. I even thought you might cry; I almost kept my distance,” she muses, teasingly pressing the velvet plane of her nose against his jaw, nudging him with a mischievous smile – but it is fleeting. ”I never thought ..”
She is quiet then, and the echo of the churning sea pooling onto the distant shoreline presses into the void, enveloping her until it is all that she can hear. Quietly, softly: ”Foolish me,” she breathes; her honesty enough to cause her chest to seize and grow tight. ”I have never told you what you mean to me, Dahmer .. I think we both know too well that I am no good with words, but ..”
I do more harm than good.
The memory of Ledger, furious and rife with hatred in his eye, warning her has yet to fade - he knew a truth she had been hiding even from herself; the thought of him causes her heart to clench and to ache, and so she tries to wall herself away from the pain.
A soft sigh, averting her gaze to the dry and brittle vegetation swaying to and fro with the wayward wind, caressing her gilded legs. Softly, with her lips pressed against his jaw, ”I hope that you know.”
His lips and teeth brush across her own back in turn, and a shiver stirs her pale feathers, bristling as the salty ocean breeze drapes over their silhouettes, while the distant sun begins to dip beyond the horizon, bathing each of them in a splendor of amethyst and indigo. Quietly, her lips begin to press more firmly along the darkness of his spine, tracing it slowly, inhaling the scent of the island clutching to his skin. The dogwood, the sagebrush, the brine of the sea itself envelope her, drawing her closer to him, and a kiss is placed deliberately in the crease where the curve of his leg is met with the muscle along his hip, before encircling him.
Her feathers press along the ridge of his barrel in stark contrast – pale ivory to dark obsidian, and all the while, her cheek is pressed against his shoulder. The golden flecks of her eye reflect the warmth of the falling sun, while she observes the rounded curve of his jawline, brushing her pale lips along the column of his neck. Her caresses are slow, unhurried and gentle, and so unlike her. Even when she had tucked herself against him beneath a canopy of starlight, or fallen asleep beside him near to the frothing seafoam, lapping lazily along the shoreline, she had hidden away from the warmth he naturally drew from somewhere deep within. Buried. Hidden.
She was tired of hiding.
”Do you remember when we first met?” she murmurs softly against the shadow of his skin, her gaze averted, focused on the glimmer of the waning sunlight across the restless, tinted seawater. There is a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth, and a glint in her eye. ”You were moping by a lava stream. I even thought you might cry; I almost kept my distance,” she muses, teasingly pressing the velvet plane of her nose against his jaw, nudging him with a mischievous smile – but it is fleeting. ”I never thought ..”
She is quiet then, and the echo of the churning sea pooling onto the distant shoreline presses into the void, enveloping her until it is all that she can hear. Quietly, softly: ”Foolish me,” she breathes; her honesty enough to cause her chest to seize and grow tight. ”I have never told you what you mean to me, Dahmer .. I think we both know too well that I am no good with words, but ..”
I do more harm than good.
The memory of Ledger, furious and rife with hatred in his eye, warning her has yet to fade - he knew a truth she had been hiding even from herself; the thought of him causes her heart to clench and to ache, and so she tries to wall herself away from the pain.
A soft sigh, averting her gaze to the dry and brittle vegetation swaying to and fro with the wayward wind, caressing her gilded legs. Softly, with her lips pressed against his jaw, ”I hope that you know.”
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone;
you're not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on.
you're not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on.
@[Dahmer]