she’s got jumper cable lips
she’s got sunset on her breath. now i inhaled just a little bit, now i’ve got no fear of death
Perhaps they will always be destined to twirl in this hateful, eternal, dangerous dance.
She might always be the one luring him in with her starshine laughter and sunset-dazzled eyes and recklessly erratic decisions. He might always be the one pulling her closer with his haunted gaze and rogue-wolf smiles and handsome, high cheekbones. And his shadows might always swirl around them, spreading blood between their entangled fingers and poking bullet holes into their tender sides. He might always be apologizing when a monster kisses her shoulder sweetly before tearing a chunk from her muscle. She might always be whispering forgiveness against his neck and pulling him closer, daring him to lose himself among the swell of her breasts and the warmth of her honey-whiskey voice.
They might forever be smiling and touching, only to be dramatically separated by the violence that follows him like a curse.
Even if Khaedrik had screamed at her (“Go away!” like an explosion that would equally kill her and save her), she wouldn’t have left. It doesn’t matter anyway, because he is melting into her fervent touches and her heart is leaping when he whispers her name into the beach-scented breeze. “You didn’t hurt me.” Her voice is a throaty reassurance, yet that last word softens on her lips when his bruised mouth begins to move across the curves of her mahogany body.
Now it is she growing soft beneath him. Each kiss he presses to her skin blazes as though he had placed a star into the nighttime sky — he is scattering bright constellations upon her shoulders and neck and they shine against her nerves even once his lips have moved on. His voice rumbles smoothly into an ear poking through the knotted mess of her dark mane and Wishbone turns her head to press a sincere, long kiss into his damp golden shoulder.
“Maybe they will leave one day.” It’s a foolish wish, but it is one she often thinks about. Or perhaps his hand will tighten around their throats until they scatter to the trees with merely a commanding look. “I won’t abandon you just because of them,” she admits, whispering the words huskily into the smooth muscle of his shoulder. A gentle smile tugs at her mouth, this one different from her traditionally reckless expression.
Wishbone winds herself closer to the devil’s son, her curves sliding against his side, and a fire blazes in every place their skin brushes. It is a different mood now, perhaps one encouraged by the tender smattering of kisses he had trailed along her body only moments before. They stand in an opposite parallel and Wishbone touches another kiss (one that burns erotically like a cattle’s branding) to the expanse of his thigh before allowing her mouth to trail lower.
“I hope you’re not afraid of me, too.”
wishbone
@[Khaedrik] / so i realize this was Innocent Wishbone™ at the beginning of this thread and now it is not but i don't even care <3