02-04-2017, 03:11 PM
Stillwater
The way she said his name again was kerosene to a flame. This time so breathless with longing, a keening whimper of desire as he heated her with urgent attentions. It fueled the man to fever pitch, but it rattled the beast too. Prey did this, prey sounded this way, so eager for him. Her blood was nearly ready, nearly at that perfect temperature, that perfect rhythm and consistency. The perfect taste. He could feel his pulse pound in his aching teeth, and he groaned against her.
"Don't do that," she gasped, pushing his hungry lips away from her skin, "don't leave me like that." He dropped his gaze and shook his head silently, remorseful that it had upset her, that it might have hurt her when he began to walk away. But unable to promise not to do it again. Unable to explain why.
So he held the quiet carefully between them, the air still so electric with their need. Neither one of them could barely breathe, but he was calming it, coiling back around to control it better. Her eager response to his touch should not affect him so much, they should all be so eager and willing. Somehow it meant something different with her.
Somehow she meant something different.
She tried to speak again but only buried her face into his neck, her breath still shallow and shaking. Come back to me, Luster, he told her, pleaded. Because suddenly he craved more than just a feast of blood and flesh. Would she really come back though? When she was gone from here and woken from this enthralling moment? Would she already fear him before she truly knew the danger?
His uncertainty and confusion reflected back at him in her eyes as she pulled away to look at him. A flicker of hurt passed over her, and he knew what she was questioning. His hot then cold, his soft then hard. He had thrown vastly different reactions at her, and now she was thinking on them, trying to puzzle them out for herself. "You don't owe me this," she whispered, lighting more gentle kisses along the planes of his dark face. "I didn't mean to trap you here with me. Go, if you need to."
He tensed at that word, Trapped, he repeated darkly, harder than he'd meant to. His chain felt heavier, glinted brighter, and his tongue soured in his mouth. He was meant to be wild, to be free and untethered, not bound to anyone but himself. But he brushed the thoughts aside and everything in him softened again, melted away for her. Not by you, he clarified quietly, and returned her affection with the tenderness of his own. He settled sweet kisses to the corner of her eye, to her temple.
I stay with you because I want to, he said in soft honesty, lips brushing her skin. I try to run because it frightens me, he whispered. I'm not one to get attached, and here I am wishing you wouldn't have to leave. He felt like he'd said a lot, felt vulnerable. He was always so private, too. So guarded behind a charming smile. It didn't explain everything, didn't give voice to the hunger that pushed him into predator and back again, but perhaps it would be enough to reassure her. Perhaps it was enough to distract her from that part of him.
How long will it take you, he wanted to ask. When will you be back again where you belong. But instead he sighed quietly and pulled her in closer, held her solidly in the darkness of his home and his embrace. He closed his eyes, memorized the feel of her against him. Just in case she chose not to return again after all. Just in case she sensed the danger when she was away from here and clear-minded.
We should rest now, he suggested almost inaudibly, a hum in his throat against her neck. We instead of you because that would make the difference to her, if she thought he was tired. If she thought he wasn't feigning weariness just for her. Because she was drained and needed her energy if she were to- when she was to leave him in the morning.
"Don't do that," she gasped, pushing his hungry lips away from her skin, "don't leave me like that." He dropped his gaze and shook his head silently, remorseful that it had upset her, that it might have hurt her when he began to walk away. But unable to promise not to do it again. Unable to explain why.
So he held the quiet carefully between them, the air still so electric with their need. Neither one of them could barely breathe, but he was calming it, coiling back around to control it better. Her eager response to his touch should not affect him so much, they should all be so eager and willing. Somehow it meant something different with her.
Somehow she meant something different.
She tried to speak again but only buried her face into his neck, her breath still shallow and shaking. Come back to me, Luster, he told her, pleaded. Because suddenly he craved more than just a feast of blood and flesh. Would she really come back though? When she was gone from here and woken from this enthralling moment? Would she already fear him before she truly knew the danger?
His uncertainty and confusion reflected back at him in her eyes as she pulled away to look at him. A flicker of hurt passed over her, and he knew what she was questioning. His hot then cold, his soft then hard. He had thrown vastly different reactions at her, and now she was thinking on them, trying to puzzle them out for herself. "You don't owe me this," she whispered, lighting more gentle kisses along the planes of his dark face. "I didn't mean to trap you here with me. Go, if you need to."
He tensed at that word, Trapped, he repeated darkly, harder than he'd meant to. His chain felt heavier, glinted brighter, and his tongue soured in his mouth. He was meant to be wild, to be free and untethered, not bound to anyone but himself. But he brushed the thoughts aside and everything in him softened again, melted away for her. Not by you, he clarified quietly, and returned her affection with the tenderness of his own. He settled sweet kisses to the corner of her eye, to her temple.
I stay with you because I want to, he said in soft honesty, lips brushing her skin. I try to run because it frightens me, he whispered. I'm not one to get attached, and here I am wishing you wouldn't have to leave. He felt like he'd said a lot, felt vulnerable. He was always so private, too. So guarded behind a charming smile. It didn't explain everything, didn't give voice to the hunger that pushed him into predator and back again, but perhaps it would be enough to reassure her. Perhaps it was enough to distract her from that part of him.
How long will it take you, he wanted to ask. When will you be back again where you belong. But instead he sighed quietly and pulled her in closer, held her solidly in the darkness of his home and his embrace. He closed his eyes, memorized the feel of her against him. Just in case she chose not to return again after all. Just in case she sensed the danger when she was away from here and clear-minded.
We should rest now, he suggested almost inaudibly, a hum in his throat against her neck. We instead of you because that would make the difference to her, if she thought he was tired. If she thought he wasn't feigning weariness just for her. Because she was drained and needed her energy if she were to- when she was to leave him in the morning.
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it