Kiss me again
Kiss me until I am sick of it
He hates how much he thinks about her. Sometimes even the fog of nectar isn’t enough to chase away the memory of her dripping with rain as the storm raged around them. Deep in the trance of a hallucination he will see the spite in her shining peridot eyes and remember the way she called him a monster. He was a monster wasn’t he? That’s what everyone expected from him, what he had learned to be. The depths of his red eyes turn dark as the flare of anger ripples through his chest, remembering the way she had screamed at him. Remembering the way her scent overwhelmed him when he grabbed her as she fell. The fae around him don’t even notice as he shakes his head slightly, unable to remove the scent of her that mocks him in the breeze. Don’t even notice when he rolls to his side and rises off the ground, hearing the soft sound of her voice in distance.
He knows it’s the drugs of the pollen but he can’t help but follow the vision of her that stands amongst the wildflowers. Poppies cling to the soft strands of his raven mane that fall loosely against his neck (he hasn't noticed the multicolored buttercups that have been woven into his tail when he wasn't paying attention) as his sable body parts through the tall grasses and blossoms. She looks so real and he is so faded, streaks of gold illuminating the dark skin of his face as his red eyes look at her hungrily. She was young (but not that much younger then himself) and naive and sheltered. A spoiled princess that had been handed everything on a silver platter. There was nothing special about her even with the jewels that dotted her forehead, the jade wings that could lift her to the skies. She was nothing. She is nothing to him. She despises him. He hates her.
He is closer to her now, brazen in his inebriation as he half stumbles with a laugh, a crooked smile on his lips. Without warning he halts dangerously close, it doesn’t matter, this isn’t real, she isn’t really here. There’s no need to lie to a drug induced vision. “I can’t escape the scent of you.” His crimson eyes narrow slightly as he murmurs, searching her face and wondering what it would be like to trace the curve of her jaw with his muzzle. He can’t even remember what it had been like to be touched by another, to sleep next to somebody warm. Now that he is so close, he can smell so many other scents mingled with hers. Sighing softly as she blurs before him and the familiar resentment returns to grasp his cold heart, wrapping himself back into the cloak of his lies. “God I hate you.”
He’s oblivious that some of the fae behind him, half hidden, watch the exchange with interest. As they exchange sly looks and roguish grins. New targets for new pranks.
Obscene
@[Cheri] Here's your hot mess <333