"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
I’m yours.
The words stir to life something so hungry and possessive within him that he barely recognizes it as a piece of himself. But it is entirely him, wanting and needy, longing so much to hold her close and never let her escape. She’s not meant to be caged though. And he wants her, genuine and real and his without question or coercion. He wants to know she would choose him of her own volition, over and over again.
He closes his eyes as she traces her lips over his jaw, losing himself in the sweet warmth of her touch, his skin heating almost unbearably. The shadows feel cool and impersonal next to this, so fleeting and ephemeral when compared to the reality of her pressed so closely against him. He’d been missing so much, and he’d never even known it. Now though, he’s not certain he would ever want to continue without this. He’d been so blissful in his ignorance, but she’d awoken far more than the sleeping beast within him.
So take me.
His eyes snap open as a sudden flush of heat shudders through him with those words. His golden eyes devour her, forever painting this beautiful, wanton image of her in his memories. His lips find the corner of her mouth then, tracing their way along the delicate lines of her nose and jaw. Slowly, achingly. He moves forward then, lips brushing soft caresses along her neck, her shoulder.
His touches begin to lose their gentle subtlety as he continues his exploration, giving way to something less-refined, more demanding. By the time he has reached her hip, his heart is thudding too loudly, his desires and instincts too insistent. There is little thought left beyond his need for her, beyond his faint understanding of an age-old dance.
He scrapes his teeth along her hip, harder than before, though not enough to draw blood. His golden gaze is nearly feral as presses against her, nostrils flaring. She is his. Entirely. He pulls himself on top of her, his knees gripping her hips, her ribs, until he is able to push himself inside of her. He moves slowly, so slowly, losing himself in the bliss of her. When he’s firmly seated, he groans softly against her spine, breathing her name against the satin of her skin. “Briseis.”
She is perfect. So utterly perfect. A hungry, alien part of him wants this to last forever, knowing her could drive her to the brink of madness over and over again. Another part of him wants only to drive into her, to make her his in every way possible. The only thing he knows with certainty however, is that he would give her whatever she wanted.
Quiet, level-headed Briseis finally found herself completely and utterly lost in someone else, so much so that even without the veil of shadow around them she never would have heard or saw anyone else to begin with. She is too far gone to rationalize anything the way she usually would. Any doubts that she could possibly have are immediately obliterated by his touch that travels the curves and angles of her body, involuntary shivering in his wake and pressing closer to him. Every inch of her is aching for him, her blood coursing like fire in her veins as she tries to control the way her heart is thundering in her chest, and the way her breathing quickens as his touch grows firmer and travels further back.
By the time his teeth are edging against her hip, she is on the verge of losing control. She is coiled tight in anticipation, nearly shaking from the desire she wears like a cloak. It is a relief when he finally envelopes her, his masculine frame easing over top of hers, and then finally, the feel of him inside of her. The low moan that builds in her throat in response could have almost been a sigh of relief, and the sound of her name from his lips, and the feel of it against her skin, makes her body tremble in want.
Even as her mind becomes lost in a fog, there is still a part of her that can recognizes how different this is from anything else she has experienced. It was not simply lust. She didn’t just want him like this. She wanted him, in every way possible; she wanted him now, but she also wanted him when it was over. She wanted to be his, a notion that was so foreign to her she still can’t fully comprehend it. When this was over, she would second-guess herself — she would second-guess him, thinking there was no way it was possible that someone so irresistible could ever think of her in the same way. But for now, she is so lost in how it feels to be beneath him that she can’t even find the heart to doubt any of it.
Somehow, he still didn’t feel close enough. Her trembling body presses back into him, her jaw clenching against the onslaught of need and desire that are almost becoming too much. ”Show me,” Her voice is quiet but brimming with everything that she cannot say, nearly melting against his sensuous caress as she says in a heavy whisper, ”Show me that you want me just as badly as I want you.”
briseis. you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece
Golden eyes watching our every move Losing time without the sun or moon
Nearly every piece of him aches with his need and want. Thoughts have trouble forming, words refusing to find his tongue beyond the desperate ache in her name as he whispers it. But somehow she still knows, reading him like an open book. In a way, he is, his heart and soul entirely bared before her. Vulnerable and pleading.
Show me, she says, and his entire body nearly trembles with relief. Yes, he thinks, but the acquiescence never makes it past his lips. Instead his knees grip the sleek sides of her ribcage more tightly, his lips pressing more firmly against her skin. He moves then, first slowly, testing, teasing, tempting. But as ancient instinct overcomes him, he moves faster, more aggressively, losing himself entirely in the rhythm, in the way she moves against him, matching him so easily.
Until the inevitable conclusion. He presses harder against her, gripping tighter, as a wave of immense pleasure washes over him. Until he can hold on no longer and loses himself in the wash desire and fulfillment, a low sound rumbling through his chest and throat.
He collapses against her, his skin faintly damp, muscles limp and lax as he traces his lips almost absently along her spine, soothing the flesh where his teeth had pressed perhaps a bit too firmly against her tender skin. He has never felt so incredible, and for a moment he wonders if it is always like this. If he had been missing such an incredible part of life simply because of his ignorance. After a moment, he slips off of her before pressing against her hip, his dark nose buried against her soft skin, inhaling their combined scents.
His. She is his.
“Briseis,” he whispers again, enjoying the way her name sounds on his tongue. It’s odd to think that not so long ago they had been strangers. Still, somehow, they had forged a connection, had become something more. Had become something he never wants to give up.
But one day is not the promise of a lifetime. And he could never (would never) force her into such a thing. For now, he would take the time she gave him. He would wait until she chose him again. And again. Slipping forward, he presses a kiss to her shoulder, her cheek. Drawing her against him, he closes his eyes, content to hold her. To revel in their shared passion.
-----
Some time later, he leaves her on Nerine’s shore, to seek out the daughter she had wished to see when she’d first asked him to bring her here. He would return though. And soon. Because she is his, whether she knows it yet or not.
