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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  but now we're sleeping at the edge; dacian
    #6

    you have forsaken all the love you've taken
    sleeping on a razor there's nowhere left to fall

    She all but offers herself freely to him, and she does not understand how dangerous that is.

    Not because he is going to hurt her; he never hurts who he wants to keep. He had never been violent against Devonae, but others had not been as lucky. Aurorae had been lucky — or unlucky —to  captivate him from the start, and to have her in front of him soft and willing, with that sweet purring of her throat, that was enough to sink him. It is dangerous because now he would be reluctant to let her go, no matter how little control he actually had over her. She was not rightfully his; in fact, with her stars and her northern lights, he does not see how she could ever belong to anyone. Keeping her would be like trying to capture the night sky, and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows this.

    Yet instead of being willing to relinquish the idea of keeping her it only made that ache in his gut all the more incessant.

    It makes him push hungrily against her, his chest now touching hers, his nose buried beneath her mane and caressing the warmth of her skin. “I’m not as fascinating as you think,” he says into her neck, exploring all that he can reach from where he stands. He moves slowly despite the want that is building, despite the way he hungrily drinks in every curve with his eyes. His touch remains steady, deliberate, gauging her response — what happens when he presses a touch behind her ear, the way she breathes when his lips run down the length of her neck. “I’ve done terrible things,” and though it is vague, it is true; he has murdered, he has raped, but he doesn’t tell her that. “Some of them justified, some of them not.” Somewhat of a lie — he tells himself they were all justified, even if his subconscious knows they were not.

    “But if you still want all of me,” he pauses, having drawn back to drag his mouth down her cheek, to settle at the soft corner of her lips, his voice now a hot rasp instead of its usual gravel, “I can give you that.”

    Dacian

    your body's aching, every bone is breaking
    nothing seems to shake it, it just keeps holding on

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    RE: but now we're sleeping at the edge; dacian - by Dacian - 06-28-2020, 01:34 AM



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