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  • Beqanna

    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


    [private]  give me love and all your hate [M]; diz
    #11
    dovev

    He stared up at her, silent save for the storm of blood in his veins, in his ears. As always with her, his heart raced. He felt so bare, so vulnerable lowering himself this way. But, god, she could do whatever the hell she wanted with him. Anything at all, whatever she wanted. He was hers.

    There had been a moment of hesitation only a short time ago. He'd tried to comfort her, tried to reassure her that she'd be able to make things right between her and Zor. It obviously worried her to be so at odds with him. She'd make it right, though. How could she not when she affected him so easily, so strongly? Zor would be just as helpless under her touch. Anyone would be. Goddamn, he fucking hated that. Enough. Don't think about it. Whatever she did away from him was her business, he had no right to --just, whatever.

    He pushed it all away, resigned himself to accept whatever this was between them. Don't want more, don't ask for more. He'd take whatever she would give him. He'd give himself each time they met, his heavy, black gaze promised her this. He was hers. She was home. He would take only as much as she could give. For as long as she allowed him.

    God, but staring up at her now.. haloed by dancing light filtering through the trees, his perfectly wicked girl. His Dizzy. Her tousled, dark hair only made her sexier, tangled and mussed from their sex. Their love. So quickly, she'd become something more than that irritating brat always inserting herself where she didn't belong, where she wasn't wanted. So, so swiftly, she became all that mattered.

    And there, in those eyes like stones of dark amber, how they catch the light and shine brighter, there was something more. So much more. Something... powerful. His brows pinched softly as he stared back, puzzling out what the hell that was. And why it suddenly robbed him of breathing and terrified him. Something dangerous. Something far too real. And his heart raced for a whole new reason, now. God, he knew what that was, didn't he? He was afraid to admit it, afraid to face it.

    His eyes went just a little wider, just a little more uncertain. Oh, god, no. Don't look at me like that. There was no way she really wanted this. No fucking way. She didn’t know what she was doing. All she knew was Zor, right? Could she really understand what that look said to him, what it promised him? They stood at the perilous lip of something so much more than she could understand. Right? Clutching onto each other with winds threatening to blow them over in either direction. One side safer, one side so much more uncertain. He should push her to the safe and take the fall alone. Let her life return to normal and bear his consequences. He should. He would have..

    But those eyes said she wasn’t letting go. Not for anything.

    God, they were really doing this? Really, really? Oh, god. Fuck. Ok…
    Ok.

    As you wish.

    And he met her slow and tender movements with his own, opened his eyes to show her the solid black of his. The raw, naked..love in them, the heart-aching affection that scared the hell out of him. But it was hers, it was all hers. So he let them burn back at her with their intensity, reflecting things neither of them would say. Let their bodies say it for them, their eyes, the whisper of her name on his breath, the soft sighs of pleasure and wonder at what this was, where they were going. What they were becoming.

    And so, together they fell.


    It wasn’t until after that he slowly realized what he’d done, as he cradled her close and held her, breathed her in and kissed her hair. He was always so goddamned controlling; always the one to lead the way, to make the decisions, to choose what he did and how he did it, sometimes to choose what the other person does and how they did it, sometimes to make them do it. So controlling.

    This time, he’d rolled her on top and lay so still beneath her, handed over the power to do whatever she wanted, anything at all. She was in charge. For once in his life he’d surrendered.

    He’d surrendered completely to her.
    And damn, he’d do it again.

    He was hers.

    Cheers to the end, the bittersweet
    You have my dreams and all of me


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