and all of us, we’re meant for the fire, but we keep rising up and walking the wires
He stokes a fire in her belly until it blossoms into an inferno.
She can feel it spreading through her limbs, the edges of her mind turning hazy, her extremities going numb. The rest of the world seems to fade away into a dull, soothing static, and she feels drunk in the moment, lost in the agonizing slow build of his touch. She can’t find the words in her throat, can’t feel anything except for the soft purr in her throat as he kisses his way down her sides, as she feels lips and teeth and the impossibly warm roll of breath as it hovers over her skin, pooling like fog in the morning.
There is a part of her, a weak part of her, the blooms beneath his attention. She unfurls beneath his touch, wanting to believe in the purity of it—wanting to believe in hime. Her heart is vulnerable, having been shielded and kept away for so long, and he undoes the defenses so perfectly that she has to wonder if she had any to begin with. Was there a moment where she was not his? Was there a time?
She can’t remember.
She can’t remember anything but this: the hitch in her breath, the spike in her pulse.
He comes back up the other side and her eyes open, her face naked with emotion, the muss of her hair so different from the usually elegant, sleek appearance of her. “I don’t,” she breathes, trembling slightly. She can still feel the whispers of his mind and, for perhaps the first time, she withdraws completely. She pulls it into herself, remembering the lessons of her mother and the ways to shut it off when needed.
Would he feel the absence of her from his mind? Would he feel the weight of her being lifted?
She didn’t know. All she knew was that she did not want to hear his thoughts now.
Not when she had this to ask.
“Fox,” his name is heated on her tongue as she reaches out, tracing his face, tasting whatever she can reach. “Tell me you’ll be mine.” The request is almost so quiet that he may not hear her. Almost so quiet that she could ignore the stab of shame in her belly at her weakness, but she doesn’t apologize for it. She just leans into him, curling her neck to find the warmth of his chest, to feel the thud of his heartbeat.
For tonight, she thought. She just needed something to call her own. At least for tonight.
lynx