03-03-2017, 03:02 AM
He laughs again but this one feels forced, different, and she can feel the uncertain way her brow furrows at him. Her eyes lift and fall against his face, swaying and uncertain, and it is as though she thinks she can peel his secrets from his shadows, pry his thoughts from the dark that pools in the hollows of a face that is so unexpectedly beautiful. She is about to touch her lips to his forehead when the shiver steals down his spine – just one single ripple, but it is enough to catch her eyes and coax worry from the pit of her delicate chest. Her attention returns immediately to his face, openly worried, openly uncertain, but she must see something that helps her understand because her lips do find the curve of his jaw, gentle and tentative, and she whispers, “Are you alright?” The worry is palpable, strange and maybe unjustified, but he seems suddenly uneasy and she cannot help but feel like it was something she had done. Then, even softer, “I’m sorry.”
But then he is pulling her close and she is soft beneath his grip, fluid to fit the curve of the strong, dark chest she is being pressed to. It is what she wanted, what she needed, and so she does not fight the sudden closeness, does not protest the way his mouth is warm and wandering across the soft of an unevenly blue neck. “This only feels a little foolish,” she tells him at last and with a smile, though she presses it unabashedly into the crook of his dark shoulder, “but not the trusting you part, that feels right.” She falls quiet again, soothed by the heat of his skin, by the thrum of his heart and the path his lips take across her neck. With a sigh she melts against him, soft and vulnerable and finally, finally safe.
She doesn’t mean to crumble in his grip, doesn’t mean to fall to pieces against the curve of his chest. But she can ache against him in a way she cannot do with her parents, with her family, in a way she cannot do with the man she is certain has forgotten her. So she unravels against him, a face damp with hurt and confusion, a cheek pressed firm to the point of a steady shoulder. There aren’t words at first, this is not a pain she knows how to convey to him so simply, the loss of such easy faith, the innocence being strangers with the dark. But when she can finally speak, when her lips are soft and grateful and warm where they trace shapes across his chest, she whispers, “Just be you,” a pause, tremulous breath and a tremulous voice, and she wonders why he hasn’t given her a name to claim him by, “you are enough.”
But then he is pulling her close and she is soft beneath his grip, fluid to fit the curve of the strong, dark chest she is being pressed to. It is what she wanted, what she needed, and so she does not fight the sudden closeness, does not protest the way his mouth is warm and wandering across the soft of an unevenly blue neck. “This only feels a little foolish,” she tells him at last and with a smile, though she presses it unabashedly into the crook of his dark shoulder, “but not the trusting you part, that feels right.” She falls quiet again, soothed by the heat of his skin, by the thrum of his heart and the path his lips take across her neck. With a sigh she melts against him, soft and vulnerable and finally, finally safe.
She doesn’t mean to crumble in his grip, doesn’t mean to fall to pieces against the curve of his chest. But she can ache against him in a way she cannot do with her parents, with her family, in a way she cannot do with the man she is certain has forgotten her. So she unravels against him, a face damp with hurt and confusion, a cheek pressed firm to the point of a steady shoulder. There aren’t words at first, this is not a pain she knows how to convey to him so simply, the loss of such easy faith, the innocence being strangers with the dark. But when she can finally speak, when her lips are soft and grateful and warm where they trace shapes across his chest, she whispers, “Just be you,” a pause, tremulous breath and a tremulous voice, and she wonders why he hasn’t given her a name to claim him by, “you are enough.”