it's still my heart to sell; dovev

[leliana]

I know what it is but I'm hoping that all is well
no harvest of green but it's still my heart to sell

The duality of him was perplexing, confusing, fascinating.

He was at once light and playful, dark and tortured; he brushed against her with touches that were at once sweet and tender and then domineering, possessive. Her mind reeled against the switches, the way he dipped in and out, his eyes going from fierce to sweet. Eventually, she gave up on trying to keep up, instead taking him for what he was, accepting him for the creature that was in front her.

This was the truth. It was his truth, and it was hers tonight.

He pulled her down to the ground and although she stiffened at first, she remembered the sweet way he had asked her to stay and yielded, folding down next to him, swan wings lifting upward and outward to lay over their backs, legs tangling as they pressed together. The moment was sweet and, in her mind, innocent, but she knew, in the depths of her heart--she knew they teetered on the edge of something different. 

Something with waters that churned dangerously, wicked and tempting.

"Perhaps I should leave then," she teased, finding the spot of blue upon his lip and lingering there, fascinated by the color of it. "If you are going to see me when I am gone anyway." Still, her eyes were bright and kind, the amber of them lit with pleasure at the nearness of him, at the sound of his voice.

At his question, she frowned, the lovely features of her face clouding with confusion. "Should I not let you touch me?" It was a foreign concept, one she had never considered. Perhaps it was absence of her mother or the tumbleweed life of her childhood, but she had never learned that not all touches were welcome, that love was not meant to be shared freely and openly. Her heart was a sheltered thing, but not a selfish one; she saw no reason to not give it away, to place it into the hands of those who desired it. 

The idea that anything but good could from it was laughable.

She laughed again at the bite he placed upon her neck, and she returned the favor, nibbling at his flesh, mouth finding the thin and sensitive skin by his ear and resting there for a moment. "It is..." her voice faded for a moment as she searched for the word, finally settling upon, "pleasant." She smiled shyly, leaning her head into him to give him a nudge. "It is pleasant when you touch me." Explorative, she continued her path along his face and his neck, finding all of the crevices and harsh lines that drew him up. 

"Should I not touch you?" 

For a moment, she hesitated, unsure.

I put everything I had into something that didn't grow
like going on a wild hunt, shooting arrows without a bow