03-04-2017, 11:50 AM
Dov tensed up at first, and Diz could hardly blame him. She wasn’t exactly acting like herself, was she? All quiet cuddles and sharing body heat without a single snarky comment or pointed prod or anything. Not even a hungry purr or a provocative bite, just holding him and letting the way her body had turned into a furnace do some good for someone other than the whelp slowly taking shape inside her.
And slowly that warmth started to sink into him, easing the shivers and shudders, until moaned and shivered underneath her gentle touch for a very different reason. Huh. Gentle wasn’t exactly something they’d tried before, too caught up in the taste of blood on their lips, the feel of teeth sinking into flesh, the sharp pain chased by tongues and lips the fuel to the flame that burned between them. Interesting. The idea of a repeat of the inferno that had gotten Diz in her current predicament, that didn’t sound especially appealing just then. But somehow those soft little touches felt...good.
She was glad when he interrupted that almost disturbing train of thought by quietly, dispassionately murmuring that he’d lost everything. “Everything?” she asked quietly, still gently stroking his shoulder. Everything. She had no real idea what that meant, not to him. Unlike Zor, she hadn’t exactly made a habit of watching Dov, of learning more about him than the shape of his body, the feel of him, the way he touched her, the sounds he made while she tore into his skin, the ones he made when he came undone. Zor had mentioned other girls, but he’d cared far more about who Dov fucked than Diz ever had.
Something about his mom, and a kid. Which hadn’t really surprised Diz; Dov was the delicious kind of fucked up she was intimately familiar with. People like them didn’t do clean and sweet and pretty, not if clean and sweet and pretty wanted to stay that way. She’d never tried, had never gotten tied up and tangled in anyone the way Zor was in Dov. Not after watching the way their mom had fawned and obsessed over their dad, the twisted empty ache in her gut that made Ravyn come back to him, made her want to please him, made her give herself away in the doing.
Nah. Love didn’t run in her blood. And she wasn’t about to dance with sick obsession either, with turning herself inside out trying to be enough for someone who barely looked her way, or for someone who hated that he wanted her, hated that he loved what she did to him. No sense in getting emotionally involved, when all it did was fucking gut you.
Still. Clearly not everyone was as good at staying detached. Like Zor. And apparently like Dov, though god knew it wasn’t either of them he was wrecked over. She felt a moment of quiet concern, found herself damn glad it wasn’t Zor who’d stumbled across their part-time lover lamenting how he’d lost everything. Probably he’d be hurt, hearing everything didn’t have fuck-all to do with him. Diz, on the other hand, had never expected to be anything to Dov other than what she was. Someone he’d gotten a taste of, someone who fired his blood now and again.
So it cost her nothing to lie with him and hold him and trail her lips along the skin still exposed around the bony growths of armor and just let him deal with whatever had left him like this. Whether he wanted to deal with it out loud or not, well, that was up to him.
And slowly that warmth started to sink into him, easing the shivers and shudders, until moaned and shivered underneath her gentle touch for a very different reason. Huh. Gentle wasn’t exactly something they’d tried before, too caught up in the taste of blood on their lips, the feel of teeth sinking into flesh, the sharp pain chased by tongues and lips the fuel to the flame that burned between them. Interesting. The idea of a repeat of the inferno that had gotten Diz in her current predicament, that didn’t sound especially appealing just then. But somehow those soft little touches felt...good.
She was glad when he interrupted that almost disturbing train of thought by quietly, dispassionately murmuring that he’d lost everything. “Everything?” she asked quietly, still gently stroking his shoulder. Everything. She had no real idea what that meant, not to him. Unlike Zor, she hadn’t exactly made a habit of watching Dov, of learning more about him than the shape of his body, the feel of him, the way he touched her, the sounds he made while she tore into his skin, the ones he made when he came undone. Zor had mentioned other girls, but he’d cared far more about who Dov fucked than Diz ever had.
Something about his mom, and a kid. Which hadn’t really surprised Diz; Dov was the delicious kind of fucked up she was intimately familiar with. People like them didn’t do clean and sweet and pretty, not if clean and sweet and pretty wanted to stay that way. She’d never tried, had never gotten tied up and tangled in anyone the way Zor was in Dov. Not after watching the way their mom had fawned and obsessed over their dad, the twisted empty ache in her gut that made Ravyn come back to him, made her want to please him, made her give herself away in the doing.
Nah. Love didn’t run in her blood. And she wasn’t about to dance with sick obsession either, with turning herself inside out trying to be enough for someone who barely looked her way, or for someone who hated that he wanted her, hated that he loved what she did to him. No sense in getting emotionally involved, when all it did was fucking gut you.
Still. Clearly not everyone was as good at staying detached. Like Zor. And apparently like Dov, though god knew it wasn’t either of them he was wrecked over. She felt a moment of quiet concern, found herself damn glad it wasn’t Zor who’d stumbled across their part-time lover lamenting how he’d lost everything. Probably he’d be hurt, hearing everything didn’t have fuck-all to do with him. Diz, on the other hand, had never expected to be anything to Dov other than what she was. Someone he’d gotten a taste of, someone who fired his blood now and again.
So it cost her nothing to lie with him and hold him and trail her lips along the skin still exposed around the bony growths of armor and just let him deal with whatever had left him like this. Whether he wanted to deal with it out loud or not, well, that was up to him.