03-20-2017, 02:00 PM
Misra
i'd go to hell and back with you; stay lost in what we've found.
The tension is palpable - she can almost taste his pulse along the surface of his skin, where the darkened line of her soft lips press gently. The scent entangled with his tousled mane no longer hums of the salty brine of the sea, where she had once been a child so carefully tucked beneath his wing, cradled near to his breast. Her breath lingers across the vivid canvas of his skin, observing the luster of the incandescent light across its lavender sheen. There are flaws etched into his flesh; scars that had long since faded and quietly she presses gentle, biting kisses to the skin – knowing too well which thread to pull at to unravel the very essence of him (though he would never confess to having any weakness at all).
A gentle pang of guilt tugs at her heartstrings, and there is a pause – a single breath held as her mind remembers the gentle and loving embrace of Siberian she had left behind mere hours ago, but there is an ache within the core of her breast that reminds her that she does not deserve him, that she has never deserved him. Though she loved him (and she did, and she always would), there would always be a wayward part of her that belonged elsewhere; a delicate thread woven into the fabric of her youth and thus into the (black and callous; unfeeling) heart of the one beside her now.
She was broken; beyond repair – she deserved nothing more.
Though she had once shied away from him, she reveled in his grace now, pressing the length of her wing and shoulder against the warmth of his body, traveling the length of his jaw with her lips to once again taste him. He stood motionless, but the gentle quivering of his skin is enough to elicit the faintest smile, hidden in the corners of her dark mouth. The smile (eerily empty; devoid of any emotion) that adorns his own features is fleeting, and a deep, guttural growl emerges from the depths of his throat, and she can feel the vibrations against her skin.
I was finding that which was once lost to me, and that is all she has ever been to him – a possession; something to be had - same as I’m doing now.
The heat of him stirs something within her she had not felt in some time – a deep, darkening lust that no longer frightens her. Baring her teeth again, she grazes the very edge of him along the hollow of his cheek and the ridge of his jawline, murmuring softly, ”I have never been lost to you – you have never found me.”
A pause, her dark doe eyes finally rising to meet with his own, as desire and enthrallment laces its way through her words.
”Find me now.”
worlds apart, we were the same until we hit the ground.