boy what's normal to you? 'cause that sure ain't normal to me.
The fire started slow: the last dying ember of a cigarette one thought was stomped out catching onto a single unlucky leaf. There it raged at the size of an impressive campfire, a shadowy figure leaving it unattended to see if it would go out or blaze on, then returning absently to stoke it or desperately suffocate it. Flames licked and shivered, hot and ultimately unstoppable, finally left to their own devices as most forest fires are.
Naive, reckless, blind: Litotes was and still is all of that for Kensa.
Naive, reckless, blind.
Her skin is hot against his - her mouth sweet and intoxicating - the fire so hot and perpetual now that he can barely stand to be so close to her. I will love you always. The roiling gold of his eyes goes dark, a smile soft and innocently possessive passing over his lips: now and forever they will belong to each other, now the desire from their first few seconds returns.
Litotes is drawn back to their first encounter, when their destinies first loosely intertwined. He is reminded of that initial sensation, like he had been waiting his entire life for someone like her - not someone like her but her, how that second their eyes met just . . . clicked right into place. The hesitance of their romance’s birth washes over him in a cold wave, urging him closer to the growing warmth of his passion’s fire. He wraps his body around that heat, embracing it - consuming it as it consumes him.
Kensa’s invitation is fluid and natural; Litotes follows her direction, barely a second passing between their individual actions. Here, he offers his love, just as naked and vulnerable as her beneath him. His lips press to her neck, kisses and gentle bites pressed wherever he can reach.
This is honesty and connection like nothing he has ever felt: kind yet demanding, sweet and hot as it burns down his throat and through his veins. The dark of her fur brushes against his neck and it’s almost too much, too overwhelming: all these little pieces of Kensa he loves. Not the sex, the desire, the curves, but the way she smells of plums (god, is that smell all over him right now) and her seemingly always soft skin.
Sweat coats his every muscles when he sidles up next to her, pressing kisses along the way. The air is a welcome cool between them as he presses closer, raising his neck over her own to tuck her in close. All Lie wants is to be close to her still, sweat and overheating be damned. His smile is droll when he murmurs:
“I love you, my plum.”
and if i fall would you know that to do?
and if i'm caught up would you stay?
@[Kensa] < 333333 the angels
