10-17-2018, 05:31 PM
I watch the smooth dip of his back turn from black to lighter black in the growing dawn, and trace the feathers of his cloud-white wings as the silence grows. So focus am I on these minute tasks that I am startled by his touch on my jaw. It was a gentle kiss but I nearly flinch away, too ready for it to be a blow. There is a moment of tension, barely long enough for my heart to beat, and then I recognize it for what it is.
His words stem the pooling worry, replace it with a growing sense of elation that is entirely foreign. Though I had wanted this, I had not truly dared hope he might want it too. Not when he has everything a man might want (namely, a kingdom and endless women) and I have, well, only myself. Myself and his trust, now, he says. I feel his smile rather than see it, and my own face is split into a similar expression. I feel foolish and too giddy to care as he leans closer to press another kiss to my skin. Each caress seems firmer than the last, though perhaps this is because I press myself against him, strangely desperate for a lack of space between us.
I, who have shied away from contact for years, want him to never let me go.
"You have mine," I tell him, and rather than the weight I had expected to feel, I find that these admissions serve only to make me feel ever lighter. "I love you."
Is there anything else I’d like, he asks me, as though he has not just given me the only thing I have ever truly wanted. I smile at that thought, as well as at the way he responds to the way I toy with his bristled mane. This is not new, this knowledge of the flesh, but there is a foreign thrill to knowing that it is Bane, that I have made no use of my gift and still he quivers beneath my touch. I want more, I discover, I want to find how far this heat that grows each place we touch might spread.
"There is," I tell him, the thrill of adrenaline fizzing through my veins in a way I have never felt, traveling from my chest and spiraling outward. Can he feel the lightning like I can, I wonder? Is there a crackle where my lips meet his shoulder or is it only in my mind? It doesn’t matter; I quiet those question in favor of more pleasant thoughts, more pleasurable ones.
My lips trail down his spine, having travelled up his shoulder with a half-dozen sparking caresses. "A family," I say, and feel no need to wait with bated breath for his reply. Instead I glance over my shoulder, pressed now against the curve of his yellow haunch. The smile that might never leave my face remains, and it is joined now by something more mischievous in the blue-grey sky of my eyes. "Or at least a good-faith effort to start one."
@[Wolfbane]
no mood killing emotional projection here :|
His words stem the pooling worry, replace it with a growing sense of elation that is entirely foreign. Though I had wanted this, I had not truly dared hope he might want it too. Not when he has everything a man might want (namely, a kingdom and endless women) and I have, well, only myself. Myself and his trust, now, he says. I feel his smile rather than see it, and my own face is split into a similar expression. I feel foolish and too giddy to care as he leans closer to press another kiss to my skin. Each caress seems firmer than the last, though perhaps this is because I press myself against him, strangely desperate for a lack of space between us.
I, who have shied away from contact for years, want him to never let me go.
"You have mine," I tell him, and rather than the weight I had expected to feel, I find that these admissions serve only to make me feel ever lighter. "I love you."
Is there anything else I’d like, he asks me, as though he has not just given me the only thing I have ever truly wanted. I smile at that thought, as well as at the way he responds to the way I toy with his bristled mane. This is not new, this knowledge of the flesh, but there is a foreign thrill to knowing that it is Bane, that I have made no use of my gift and still he quivers beneath my touch. I want more, I discover, I want to find how far this heat that grows each place we touch might spread.
"There is," I tell him, the thrill of adrenaline fizzing through my veins in a way I have never felt, traveling from my chest and spiraling outward. Can he feel the lightning like I can, I wonder? Is there a crackle where my lips meet his shoulder or is it only in my mind? It doesn’t matter; I quiet those question in favor of more pleasant thoughts, more pleasurable ones.
My lips trail down his spine, having travelled up his shoulder with a half-dozen sparking caresses. "A family," I say, and feel no need to wait with bated breath for his reply. Instead I glance over my shoulder, pressed now against the curve of his yellow haunch. The smile that might never leave my face remains, and it is joined now by something more mischievous in the blue-grey sky of my eyes. "Or at least a good-faith effort to start one."
@[Wolfbane]
no mood killing emotional projection here :|
