She has him in the palm of her hand, and yet she constantly feels like she is losing control.
He is always there, when she looks for him; always ready to receive her, with his soft lips and sweet words, no matter how long she had been gone. Starsin was no fool, though. She knew she had someone perfect, someone that others would find desirable; and that he, with his loving heart, hungry for the affection she so often starved him of, would seek it out in someone else.
The idea infuriated her.
She used to be able to stay away from him for longer periods, idling her time away with miscellaneous conversations and disposable company. They were entertaining, sometimes – but they were playthings. They weren’t him. He was her prized possession, the treasure she coveted above all else; at least, that’s what she tells herself. That he is just that – something flashy for her to dangle in front of everyone, her handsome angel boy, that no one else can have. It’s easier to think of him that way – like a trinket – when he is not next to her. When he’s not making her pulse flutter and her skin blush warm all over. When his sincere thoughts are not rippling through her mind, and causing her to accidentally drop her barriers.
There is a flash of gold out of the corner of her eye, and even though she knows it’s him, she feigns indifference, focusing on something in the opposite direction. It is only when his wing drapes over her and pulls her towards him that she actually turns her dark blue eyes to his, letting a smile curl to the edge of her lips, although it quickly dissolves in confusion at the sight of his new color. ”What...happened to you?” Her steel-gray muzzle reaches to brush the outlines of his gold and white splashes, as though to be sure it was not some sort of illusion. But touching him, and being so close to him, does nothing but raise more questions. ”And you feel really warm.” Here, her eyes narrow slightly, an almost accusatory tilt of her head when she asks, ”Are you sick?” He would have no way of knowing that the almost irritated sound in her voice was born from concern; she couldn’t stand the idea of him being sick. She still had no idea that she herself was a carrier, but she would willingly bear the effects of the plague tenfold if it meant he didn’t suffer from it.
But she purses her lips, and instead of letting her suspicions feed off the small grains they had found, she settles into his side. She loves the feel of his lips against her neck, and again she finds herself quietting; like he always manages to do. She turns to let her own lips gently caress against his cheek, tracing upwards to murmur into the groove of his throatlatch, ”This place is perfect. I want to stay. For a little while, at least.” She lets her teeth drag through the lengthy locks of his mane, for the first time noticing the halo illuminated near his head. A sigh flutters from her mouth, the low tones of her voice purring into his skin when she says, ”You’re irresistible, did you know that?”
@[Ophanim]
