the way you kiss me will work each time // Chryseis

[Rhaegor]

and I could easily lose my mind; the way you kiss me will work each time
calling me to come back to bed, singing Georgia on my mind

Destined to crash and burn they may be, but god, it would be a glorious thing. The eruption of their colliding energies would be enough to fill the night sky with a crystalline fire, a shimmering blue-white-gold whose constellations extended from one horizon to the other. Rhaegor knows this as he looks at her. Her, who stole his heart with her very first breath; her, whose vivacity had at first frightened him, and then immediately enthralled him; her, whose heart she had freely given and allowed broken by one as foolish as he.

And, as her tear-filled eyes meet his, she speaks the very words which made up his innermost fears.
You have had my heart since the day I met you. And it is still yours. Even if you break it, it's yours.
A clutching in his throat, one which he fails to dislodge, the vice of it only growing tighter as he struggles to form an argument against these words. Chest to chest like this, Chryseis only feels the way her young lover's muscles tense as he fights to reassure her; the sight of his fumbling tongue and pinned ears bypass her for now. It would be easy to say lies, to force her to believe him based on the merit of his word alone; but the way her smile only twitched instead of stretching to the depths of her eyes reassures the good for nothing boy that to do so would be a waste of his time.

So he moves instead, utilizing his bite as opposed to his bark. Mute and crestfallen, Rhaegor reverts to the most instinctual and comfortable method of communication: physicality.

As the guttural notes of her moan grace his ears, a twisted smile comes over his face, her blood slowly pooling in his mouth; perhaps it is the fever (it is definitely the fever) or perhaps... Perhaps the harming of the girl now, and physically, registers in the boy's mind as a way to ground them, and to subvert the emotional pain he might inflict at a later time... He tongues the warm liquid idly at this thought, swirling its contents around though he's not drawn much by this time.

The feeling of her porcelain teeth grating against his fever-sensitive neck causes his jaw to tighten; but when her words send shivers along his spine, an almost orgasmic wave sent coursing through his neurons leads to a release of her flesh. Shuddering, the boy leans his weight against Chryseis, unthinkingly smearing her blood along the length of his face.

Thud-thud.

His hooves scud along the earth in rapid succession as he nearly loses consciousness, ankles tripping and knees fumbling to keep him upright even as Chry holds him up. Straightening, Rhae teeters dangerously, eyes fixated on her shoulder... Alien, that smeared crimson which darkens her blue to black. He licks his lips, tastes blood. Finds her eyes. Does not realize that he is swathed in her gore.

"...You're bleeding." The whispered statement sounds as otherworldly as the glazed sheen of his eyes appears. A titter escapes him; he stumbles, barely catching himself. "You're --"

Rhaegor

@[Chryseis]