[mature] things we never thought we could be, adna

[bethlehem]

sometimes i wonder, will god ever forgive us for what we've done to each other? B E T H L E H E M then i look around and realize, god left this place a long time ago He is driven by the sound of his name. That glowing marble of a thing at the very center of him. Every inch of him that is set ablaze. He is driven by some great need he has never known before. Because it is more than just violent need. The anger has dissolved around the barbed edges of his want. His want to devour her. His want to fold her into the space between his ribs. His want to leave himself in her. So he breathes her in and he breathes himself out, hopes that he catches in the tangles of her mane, hopes that he seeps through the scaled skin to live in the network of her veins. He wants her to remember him when he inevitably leaves. Despite the way he gasps it into her neck, I won’t, I won’t I won’t. He wants her to believe it and maybe there is some part of him that wants to believe it, too. He has no way of knowing that the weight of her in his bones will not be enough to finally stay him, but he has no reason to believe that it will. For the moment, though, he merely loses himself in her. Until he is slick with sweat and his knees are trembling and his feet find the earth again and he brings his weary head to rest on her hip. He struggles to catch his breath then, the muscles quivering with the residue of his vibrant anger and the exertion and the ecstasy that had torn through him. His eyes fall heavy closed and he exhales a shuddering sigh. When he finally lifts his head it is to press a chaste kiss against the soft spot where he had laid his head. He is not much of a romantic, never has been, he has no great line to feed her. So, instead, he presses his forehead into the smooth plains of her shoulder and sighs, “Adna.”