10-05-2018, 12:02 PM
Vulgaris
He breathes a sigh of relief when her quakes turn to weak trembling and the tears don’t come quite so easily. At least he can manage that much. He’d always believed he was the worst at comforting others. His hands were simply not made to cradle others’ hopes and dreams but rather to crush the life from his enemies. How could he ever learn to foster things like joy and happiness? But here she is, overcoming whatever darkness envelops her while he holds her. Vulgaris begins to wonder if maybe he’s not quite so useless as he thought.
She says she loves him and the words send a shiver down the entire length of his spine. Somehow it disarms him every time she speaks those three words, sends him headfirst into a kind of tranquility that was never offered to him before. It leaves his skin electrified.
Vulgaris relaxes his gray head over her as he continues to lip at the delicate inches of her neck. She knows that one bite could end her, especially while she is so weak. She knows and still she curls tight against him without a thought as to what he is or the things he’s done while she slept. He breathes into her while she speaks and it hurts him to hear the pain woven into her words. There is no remedy for the sort of ache she professes, he knows, and so he keeps her close where he can shield her from outside this moment.
“I cherish every piece you give me. It feels like I can’t breathe when you’re apart from me,” he says when she steps back to watch him. “I never dreamed of even meeting someone so unattainable as you.”
Then he kisses at the corner of her lips, starved for more of her divine touch against his skin.
“I worship everything that you are.”
And it’s true. Her heart is the cathedral where he confesses his sins and washes the blood from his hands. A single kiss of her lips is absolution, a baptism from all that he’s said or done with hatred on his tongue. She washes the guilt from his skin and untangles the mess of lust from his ribs – keeps it all for herself, leaving him blind to the beauty of others. (And it’s true. His fire burns only for her, forevermore.)
When sleep clouds his head and leaves him drifting, his final thought each night is wondering how he could ever deserve to be loved by someone like her. Where before his dreams were always red and fevered, now they are only ever of her smile and the sound of her laughter.
She says she loves him and the words send a shiver down the entire length of his spine. Somehow it disarms him every time she speaks those three words, sends him headfirst into a kind of tranquility that was never offered to him before. It leaves his skin electrified.
Vulgaris relaxes his gray head over her as he continues to lip at the delicate inches of her neck. She knows that one bite could end her, especially while she is so weak. She knows and still she curls tight against him without a thought as to what he is or the things he’s done while she slept. He breathes into her while she speaks and it hurts him to hear the pain woven into her words. There is no remedy for the sort of ache she professes, he knows, and so he keeps her close where he can shield her from outside this moment.
“I cherish every piece you give me. It feels like I can’t breathe when you’re apart from me,” he says when she steps back to watch him. “I never dreamed of even meeting someone so unattainable as you.”
Then he kisses at the corner of her lips, starved for more of her divine touch against his skin.
“I worship everything that you are.”
And it’s true. Her heart is the cathedral where he confesses his sins and washes the blood from his hands. A single kiss of her lips is absolution, a baptism from all that he’s said or done with hatred on his tongue. She washes the guilt from his skin and untangles the mess of lust from his ribs – keeps it all for herself, leaving him blind to the beauty of others. (And it’s true. His fire burns only for her, forevermore.)
When sleep clouds his head and leaves him drifting, his final thought each night is wondering how he could ever deserve to be loved by someone like her. Where before his dreams were always red and fevered, now they are only ever of her smile and the sound of her laughter.
" ancient language, speak through fingers. the awful edges where you end and i begin. "