05-09-2016, 03:51 PM
God, I love the way he touches me. Even now, when it's not the slow build of a brewing thunderstorm. Just touching, for the sake of feeling his skin on mine. My eyes drift closed, and if I could I would be purring in weary contentment as I lean into those light touches instead of just feeling a tiny smile soften the line of my mouth. Man, shitty timing or no, I can't help but appreciate his presence. It's not until healing magic washes through me though, easing the pain and the discomfort and the exhaustion, that it occurs to me his timing might have been deliberate.
Eyes wide, I turn my head to look at him while he's focused on his task. A task my mother didn't fight for, one that I thought would be mine alone and would take much more time. The warm, kind of melty feeling in my chest makes me a little nervous. I know better than to let what's between us be anything more than chemistry. He told me when he walked away that it was all he had to offer me, and I didn't want anything more from him, didn't expect anything more. Yet here he is. I swear, I try to squash that stupid gooey feeling, to stomp it into the dirt beneath my hooves and grind it into dust. But somehow my lips are on his cheek, brushing against his skin and making my stupid, traitorous heart flutter just a little bit. It's hormones. That's a thing, right? From giving birth, for bonding with the baby or some shit. That's all.
“Thank you.” Dammit, those words weren't supposed to come out so soft. Break eye contact, Ryss, stop staring into those endless black eyes of his, don't you fucking dare notice the light playing on the surface or how deep you could fall into oh thank god, he's looking away. Shaking off the healing magic and no longer focused on me. On my comfort, and on making me feel better. With those eyes looking into the brush, with some space between his body and mine, I can breathe again. It's just the fucking hormones. It'll go away.
Even if he was around long enough to hear Tycho's name before he showed himself. Even if he's beckoning our—my—the kid over to a weird anatomy lesson that tiny beast can't look away from. The insides of a rabbit should not be adorable, and yet somehow watching the two of them explore the bones, the muscles, the organs, the circulatory system and nervous system and on and on while our little monster watches with sheer fascination in his dark eyes...fuck. Just the hormones. Still just the hormones.
Please be just the hormones.
Whoa, what. Even I'm stepping forward to stare as Pazuzu strips away his own skin and leaves muscle and sinew exposed. There is something morbidly fascinating about seeing what lies beneath the surface, how we are put together. I don't intrude on the lesson, because Tycho hasn't blinked since it began and I would hate to break his concentration. But there is a twisted beauty to the flesh beneath Pazuzu's far too appealing skin. And that thought, at least, is less disturbing than the fluttering in my chest at watching the two of them together.
Eyes wide, I turn my head to look at him while he's focused on his task. A task my mother didn't fight for, one that I thought would be mine alone and would take much more time. The warm, kind of melty feeling in my chest makes me a little nervous. I know better than to let what's between us be anything more than chemistry. He told me when he walked away that it was all he had to offer me, and I didn't want anything more from him, didn't expect anything more. Yet here he is. I swear, I try to squash that stupid gooey feeling, to stomp it into the dirt beneath my hooves and grind it into dust. But somehow my lips are on his cheek, brushing against his skin and making my stupid, traitorous heart flutter just a little bit. It's hormones. That's a thing, right? From giving birth, for bonding with the baby or some shit. That's all.
“Thank you.” Dammit, those words weren't supposed to come out so soft. Break eye contact, Ryss, stop staring into those endless black eyes of his, don't you fucking dare notice the light playing on the surface or how deep you could fall into oh thank god, he's looking away. Shaking off the healing magic and no longer focused on me. On my comfort, and on making me feel better. With those eyes looking into the brush, with some space between his body and mine, I can breathe again. It's just the fucking hormones. It'll go away.
Even if he was around long enough to hear Tycho's name before he showed himself. Even if he's beckoning our—my—the kid over to a weird anatomy lesson that tiny beast can't look away from. The insides of a rabbit should not be adorable, and yet somehow watching the two of them explore the bones, the muscles, the organs, the circulatory system and nervous system and on and on while our little monster watches with sheer fascination in his dark eyes...fuck. Just the hormones. Still just the hormones.
Please be just the hormones.
Whoa, what. Even I'm stepping forward to stare as Pazuzu strips away his own skin and leaves muscle and sinew exposed. There is something morbidly fascinating about seeing what lies beneath the surface, how we are put together. I don't intrude on the lesson, because Tycho hasn't blinked since it began and I would hate to break his concentration. But there is a twisted beauty to the flesh beneath Pazuzu's far too appealing skin. And that thought, at least, is less disturbing than the fluttering in my chest at watching the two of them together.
Daeryssa
of the restless heart