06-29-2020, 10:46 AM
all i want is to flip a switch
before something breaks that cannot be fixed
before something breaks that cannot be fixed
But they aren’t strangers. Maybe in this life, if you believe in that sort of thing, but certainly not in past ones. There is no way, as he presses against the curve of her delicate hip, tastes the shade of angel-white in the crisscrossing patterns of her skin, that he can believe he doesn’t already know her in some strange, impossible way. There is too much gravity between them, too much depth as his teeth tease her flank and his lips kiss the tremble of such delicate sinuous muscle dancing beneath her skin. He is certain that they’ve known each other for as long as the light has known the dark.
Just as he is certain she is the only thing left in any world with the ability to break him.
He unravels further with every whispered word, every fleeting touch she presses to the frost of his skin, leaving her own trails like dark versions of the marks across her own skin. There is no shame in him as he eases closer to her, demands more of her gentleness, more of the flames she sews so neatly into every last nerve beneath his piebald coat. “We have that in common then.” He says, but the words are light in the gravel of his voice, and lack any of the judgement she seems to expect from him. “Or maybe I already know anything that matters to me, and the rest will just be more of you.”
More to want, to love? He isn’t sure of anything beyond the dull ache he feels at knowing she is as hard to hold onto as sunshine. Or that he has no right to try and keep either for himself. He deserves only the corrosive dark that sits like death in his chest.
His breathing is almost ragged as she presses more kisses against him, and pain explodes inside his chest unlike anything he has ever felt before, because even if he does not understand her impermanence, he understands his own. He does not get to keep such beautiful things, not even these moments that show him glimpses of what real love might be like. What it is to feel wanted. This is just one single moment, and he wonders how it will change him when it slips from his grasp again.
“You aren’t.” He says, and there is an odd kind of warning in his voice, a flash of fury in the dark gold of his eyes. “I’m drowning, and you are the only air left I know how to breathe.” Pain again, but when she leans into him there is no restraint left in him - and even if there had been, it would be gone the moment she whispers, I want you to want me. As though anything else could even be possible. “Then be mine.” He says as he turns to kiss her jaw, lingering a moment in the light and warmth of his beautiful angel.
There is no warning when he drapes his shadows over her eyes, blinding her gently to everything that isn’t the sound of him or the touches he traces across her skin. He kisses her throat, and the predator in him cannot help but to let her feel the brush of his teeth against the fluttering pulse in her neck, but she’ll feel his smile too when he notes the way it flutters faster for him. He passes her shoulder, tracing the curve of such delicate bone with lips still covered in the silver of frost that thaws and reforms in a cycle of beautiful infinity.
He has abandoned any effort to speak as he rediscovers her wings again, touching the soft feathers at the base before tethering them with another band of dark shadow. It isn’t that he expects her to try and leave now, it’s just that he wants her to understand she cannot. She’s given him this moment, and now he’s taking more. Keeping as much of her as he can gather to himself. He traces every last scar, even the curved brand that makes him pause and wonder, and then he pushes that wonder away again with another kiss over the quivering of her flank. He lets the whiskers on his mouth tickle lightly against her skin, uses his teeth so carefully on her inner thigh until she surrenders this part of herself to him too.
He is in a haze when he finally rises and takes her beneath him, gripping her ribs between his forelegs and dragging her back deeply into the curve of his hips. His grasp is iron and unforgiving, demanding except for the way his mouth finds her shoulder with a kiss and muted groan before he takes a mouthful of mane and neck to keep her steady beneath him. He had wanted to be gentle with her, to let her find a rhythm and ease into this. But the dark in him swells and he is at once ragged and wanting, thrusting hard and dragging her beneath him so deeply as he leans low over her. “Angel,” he says, and the sound is a groan, deep and guttural, his breathing punctuated by each ragged thrust until he finds that precipice with her and they leap together into dark oblivion. Only then is he able to find any gentleness, slowing to stillness and then finally sliding out of her as shame makes him wonder if he took this too far. Stole more than she was willing to give.
His sides heave, and his shadows unwind to free her wings, free her eyes again. And even though he feels hazy and exhausted, satisfied and yet still somehow so endlessly hungry for her, he is afraid to see what is in her face when she finally turns to him again.
Just as he is certain she is the only thing left in any world with the ability to break him.
He unravels further with every whispered word, every fleeting touch she presses to the frost of his skin, leaving her own trails like dark versions of the marks across her own skin. There is no shame in him as he eases closer to her, demands more of her gentleness, more of the flames she sews so neatly into every last nerve beneath his piebald coat. “We have that in common then.” He says, but the words are light in the gravel of his voice, and lack any of the judgement she seems to expect from him. “Or maybe I already know anything that matters to me, and the rest will just be more of you.”
More to want, to love? He isn’t sure of anything beyond the dull ache he feels at knowing she is as hard to hold onto as sunshine. Or that he has no right to try and keep either for himself. He deserves only the corrosive dark that sits like death in his chest.
His breathing is almost ragged as she presses more kisses against him, and pain explodes inside his chest unlike anything he has ever felt before, because even if he does not understand her impermanence, he understands his own. He does not get to keep such beautiful things, not even these moments that show him glimpses of what real love might be like. What it is to feel wanted. This is just one single moment, and he wonders how it will change him when it slips from his grasp again.
“You aren’t.” He says, and there is an odd kind of warning in his voice, a flash of fury in the dark gold of his eyes. “I’m drowning, and you are the only air left I know how to breathe.” Pain again, but when she leans into him there is no restraint left in him - and even if there had been, it would be gone the moment she whispers, I want you to want me. As though anything else could even be possible. “Then be mine.” He says as he turns to kiss her jaw, lingering a moment in the light and warmth of his beautiful angel.
There is no warning when he drapes his shadows over her eyes, blinding her gently to everything that isn’t the sound of him or the touches he traces across her skin. He kisses her throat, and the predator in him cannot help but to let her feel the brush of his teeth against the fluttering pulse in her neck, but she’ll feel his smile too when he notes the way it flutters faster for him. He passes her shoulder, tracing the curve of such delicate bone with lips still covered in the silver of frost that thaws and reforms in a cycle of beautiful infinity.
He has abandoned any effort to speak as he rediscovers her wings again, touching the soft feathers at the base before tethering them with another band of dark shadow. It isn’t that he expects her to try and leave now, it’s just that he wants her to understand she cannot. She’s given him this moment, and now he’s taking more. Keeping as much of her as he can gather to himself. He traces every last scar, even the curved brand that makes him pause and wonder, and then he pushes that wonder away again with another kiss over the quivering of her flank. He lets the whiskers on his mouth tickle lightly against her skin, uses his teeth so carefully on her inner thigh until she surrenders this part of herself to him too.
He is in a haze when he finally rises and takes her beneath him, gripping her ribs between his forelegs and dragging her back deeply into the curve of his hips. His grasp is iron and unforgiving, demanding except for the way his mouth finds her shoulder with a kiss and muted groan before he takes a mouthful of mane and neck to keep her steady beneath him. He had wanted to be gentle with her, to let her find a rhythm and ease into this. But the dark in him swells and he is at once ragged and wanting, thrusting hard and dragging her beneath him so deeply as he leans low over her. “Angel,” he says, and the sound is a groan, deep and guttural, his breathing punctuated by each ragged thrust until he finds that precipice with her and they leap together into dark oblivion. Only then is he able to find any gentleness, slowing to stillness and then finally sliding out of her as shame makes him wonder if he took this too far. Stole more than she was willing to give.
His sides heave, and his shadows unwind to free her wings, free her eyes again. And even though he feels hazy and exhausted, satisfied and yet still somehow so endlessly hungry for her, he is afraid to see what is in her face when she finally turns to him again.
Illum