06-21-2020, 04:44 PM
all i want is to flip a switch
before something breaks that cannot be fixed
before something breaks that cannot be fixed
He does not understand what it means when she turns to duck beneath him and press her cheek to his chest, neither does he understand why she stays that way, leaned into the frost over his skin as though she hasn’t even noticed the cold. His body tenses, and it is as though the frost exists because he is made of ice inside. Solid and cold and so unyielding. But then his heart thaws, and his chest is thunder as he reaches down to touch his lips to the crest of her glowing neck. “You are not the first impossible thing I have ever encountered,” he muses, so quiet and distant because this thawing in his chest might absolutely destroy him, “but you are the first one I find myself unwilling to give up.”
He takes another step closer so that they are pressed firmly together now, so that there is no room for her to wonder what it is he wants, what it is he intends for them. He demands but he does not insist, leans into her as his lips return to wander over such pale, perfect skin, tracing every inch of every scar as though they had been left there for this specific reason in this specific moment. Paths laid out for him to travel while he gives her every chance to pull away and leave.
And she should pull away and leave.
She should fear the growing dark in his eyes as he steps aside to claim more of her, erase more boundaries she might have thought to set for him.
But the dark is very hard to keep out.
It exists wherever there is light.
“Ryatah.” He says, whispers, and his voice is like gravel as he presses his dark and bright face to the curve of her hip, breathing her in. “You should leave, angel. But I really don’t want to let you.”
He takes another step closer so that they are pressed firmly together now, so that there is no room for her to wonder what it is he wants, what it is he intends for them. He demands but he does not insist, leans into her as his lips return to wander over such pale, perfect skin, tracing every inch of every scar as though they had been left there for this specific reason in this specific moment. Paths laid out for him to travel while he gives her every chance to pull away and leave.
And she should pull away and leave.
She should fear the growing dark in his eyes as he steps aside to claim more of her, erase more boundaries she might have thought to set for him.
But the dark is very hard to keep out.
It exists wherever there is light.
“Ryatah.” He says, whispers, and his voice is like gravel as he presses his dark and bright face to the curve of her hip, breathing her in. “You should leave, angel. But I really don’t want to let you.”
Illum