02-12-2017, 07:55 PM
Her feeble resistance made him smile against her skin, her persistent little stop, stop as she nudged so gently at his nose then his armor plate. He hummed at her touch, enjoying that faint little tease of warmth against his hot skin. A cute shade of anger glowered in her face as she declared she was not his love, and he was not her anything. He smiled again, amused, and leaned to kiss her again but she sidestepped him this time. He filled the space without thought, moving with her as an eager lover would in this sweet dance of affection.
I am not your love, she repeated to him again, but he brushed it aside with a whisper. Tonight you are. And he gently melted to her neck again, spreading adoration across her with sweet kisses. He slid to her wound and gave her a sad frown of remorse, tenderly caring for the brutish injury he'd thoughtlessly placed upon her with careful sweeps of his tongue.
He felt her finally begin to soften beneath him, just a little, and his blood heated and coursed swifter through him. Her precious skin trembled beneath his touch, and damn he loved that too. Then she did something bad. Something so incredibly good. Her nose pressed to his bare shoulder, so gently, so lightly, and he exhaled in a quiet gasp.
I think you're lying. I think you know your own strength. Her voice is so soft, so surprisingly gentle, but it couldn't have prepared him for what she did next.
She tended him in return, nursed the wounds that could only heal temporarily. His skin was so sensitive, and the briefest touch of her tongue shocked bolts of electricity through him in a wave of heightened sensation. He moaned softly and locked deep, black eyes on her, couldn't tear his gaze away. And I think you know better than most how delicate skin is, she added as she moved to the next wound. He watched her, sharp and intense and hungry, and held back another moan.
When he tried to catch her eye, tried to prod her and coax her with a playful grin, she stepped away and looked outward. He felt that loss, and hated himself for pushing so soon, for making her steal her warmth away. You're going to hurt me again, aren't you? So sad, so broken. So quickly he had already shattered another one in his needy grasp. At least stop calling me love, my name is Luster.
Luster, he echoed quietly, his voice hollow and shallow with pain. Why must he always break everything he touches? He stepped tentatively to her once again, one last time, and gently but firmly gripped her opposite shoulder and pulled her to him. He held her carefully this time, his cheek brushing so sweetly against the soft blue of her neck. More remorse, more pain and sadness dug from within him and brought to the surface.
Find me again sometime, he murmured into her dark hair, not for a moment believing that she ever would. Not after what he'd done, and how he was. Who he was. I live in Ischia. Then he turned and walked away, a heavy slump in his lonely shoulders. A shattering, piercing pain in his heart.
Your man is stupid for letting you out of his sight. A grumbled compliment with a sharp bite to it. Maybe the bastard would learn better with his dark passing in her life.
I am not your love, she repeated to him again, but he brushed it aside with a whisper. Tonight you are. And he gently melted to her neck again, spreading adoration across her with sweet kisses. He slid to her wound and gave her a sad frown of remorse, tenderly caring for the brutish injury he'd thoughtlessly placed upon her with careful sweeps of his tongue.
He felt her finally begin to soften beneath him, just a little, and his blood heated and coursed swifter through him. Her precious skin trembled beneath his touch, and damn he loved that too. Then she did something bad. Something so incredibly good. Her nose pressed to his bare shoulder, so gently, so lightly, and he exhaled in a quiet gasp.
I think you're lying. I think you know your own strength. Her voice is so soft, so surprisingly gentle, but it couldn't have prepared him for what she did next.
She tended him in return, nursed the wounds that could only heal temporarily. His skin was so sensitive, and the briefest touch of her tongue shocked bolts of electricity through him in a wave of heightened sensation. He moaned softly and locked deep, black eyes on her, couldn't tear his gaze away. And I think you know better than most how delicate skin is, she added as she moved to the next wound. He watched her, sharp and intense and hungry, and held back another moan.
When he tried to catch her eye, tried to prod her and coax her with a playful grin, she stepped away and looked outward. He felt that loss, and hated himself for pushing so soon, for making her steal her warmth away. You're going to hurt me again, aren't you? So sad, so broken. So quickly he had already shattered another one in his needy grasp. At least stop calling me love, my name is Luster.
Luster, he echoed quietly, his voice hollow and shallow with pain. Why must he always break everything he touches? He stepped tentatively to her once again, one last time, and gently but firmly gripped her opposite shoulder and pulled her to him. He held her carefully this time, his cheek brushing so sweetly against the soft blue of her neck. More remorse, more pain and sadness dug from within him and brought to the surface.
Find me again sometime, he murmured into her dark hair, not for a moment believing that she ever would. Not after what he'd done, and how he was. Who he was. I live in Ischia. Then he turned and walked away, a heavy slump in his lonely shoulders. A shattering, piercing pain in his heart.
Your man is stupid for letting you out of his sight. A grumbled compliment with a sharp bite to it. Maybe the bastard would learn better with his dark passing in her life.
