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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  who could ever leave me darling, but who could stay; illum
    #11
    “I know when you go
    down all your darkest roads
    I would have followed all the way
    to the graveyard.”
    There are days that she wishes she could change. That she wishes she did not cave to temptation so easily, that she was not so empty and so broken that she would seek solace in any that would offer it. She wonders, always, what it would be like to give herself entirely to just one person, if maybe all the fragments of herself would come together in such a way that she would never fathom moments like this. Moments pressed into an almost stranger. A moment that she knows will stretch into something longer, until her heart is again scattered to another corner of the world, wedged in the ribcage of someone that may or may not come back.

    They all started as moments. Moments of weakness, moments of lust, moments of fear. Moments that she expected to turn to dust but secretly prayed they wouldn’t.

    He presses into her and she isn’t sure what kind of moment he will be. She isn’t even sure what she wants him to be, because she knows it is selfish for her to want more than what she already has. She is selfish for wanting to pretend to be something he would want, to turn herself into something he might miss. She is an awful, wretched thing for the way she presses back into him, for the way she runs her lips over the muscles of his shoulder and then beneath his wing to trace across the ribs beneath it. “I’m not going to leave,” she tells him, her voice a murmur against his skin, her hip leaning against his touch. “But I think if you knew me, Illum, if you knew anything about me at all, you would never want me.”

    Her mouth finds his skin again, the warmth of her kiss and her touch against him making the frost melt away. She wants him to remember her like this, to remember her as the pristine angel he thinks she is. She wants to make this memory and keep it before he discovers all of her flaws and her transgressions. Maybe he is meant to be a moment that only exists right now — for there to be someone, just one soul, that never has to know how corrupt she can be. 

    “I am a terrible, selfish woman though,” she whispers as she touches more of him, as her glowing sides push and press needily against him, “and I want you to want me.”
    ryatah
    Reply
    #12

    all i want is to flip a switch
    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.


    Illum
    Reply
    #13
    “I know when you go
    down all your darkest roads
    I would have followed all the way
    to the graveyard.”
    She is afraid of how easy it is to give in to him. She is afraid of how the faster her heart beats the less her mind seems to work, how his lips are tracing paths across her body and she is almost able to forget the ones that had originally carved them. Because this was, and always would be, one of her greatest weaknesses. The way she nearly crumbles at a touch, the way her heart quivers if someone says the right thing.

    She is afraid that he will weave himself into a place he shouldn’t, a place where she won’t be able to love him the way he deserves to be loved – just like Skellig.

    She had been told, once, that she chooses those that are easy to walk away from. And of course it had stung, because the truth always does. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t already known; it had just carried a different weight, to be heard it spoken aloud. It wasn’t that any of them were easy for her to leave behind; it was the fact that she chose the kind of men where erecting a wall was how she stayed alive, how she kept herself from growing too complacent with the darkness.

    But she knows, can feel it with every touch he leaves against her skin, every breath against her curves, that Illum will be someone that was difficult to walk away from.

    Her eyes are closed when he kisses her jaw, but she feels the faint coolness of the shadows when they settle across her face. She opens her eyes to darkness, and to his lips on her throat, and at first her heart jumps in anticipation, and then it jumps again in want. He had no way of knowing she was used to the dark, that for a hundred years it was all she had known. She is not afraid of it, and instead she relishes how all she can do is focus on the way he touches her, explores her, searches for a piece of her that doesn’t already belong to someone else.

    She would unearth that for him, she thinks, as his shadows tighten across her wings, and suddenly she is holding the weight of him.

    He pulls her easily back into him, and she is compliant, as she always is. Her delicate nose tucks near her chest at the feel of him, adjusting to his rhythm. She cannot control the way her body trembles and shudders beneath him, or the sounds that he coaxes from her lips. She cannot stop herself from wanting to press back into him, to wanting to hear the way he breathes angel against her skin one more time. No one has ever been particularly kind or gentle with her, and she no longer expects that, which is why it is a surprise to her that he does not purposely break her skin until she bleeds, why he does not try to blossom bruises across the porcelain of her.

    When he is through she is left gasping and shaking, her ethereal glow causing the sheen of sweat across her skin to almost appear pearlescent. The shadows are lifted from her eyes, and her wings released, and she turns to find him, to hold him with her gaze. She can feel shame burning at the back of her throat and inside of her chest, because she is so sure that he will regret this – regret her. She had been too easy – she always is. He might come back, but it will be for the same reason many of them do.

    She turns to him anyway, steps forward until she can trail her lips up his jaw. “Can I stay?” She asks him, her voice still quiet and nearly raspy, with uncertainty riding on every syllable. “I can’t promise you forever, Illum, but I can stay, for a little while.”
    ryatah
    Reply
    #14

    all i want is to flip a switch
    before something breaks that cannot be fixed

    She is a symphony of sound beneath him, a song that winds its way beneath his skin, cracking open all his ribs until that cage around his heart is hanging unsteadily open for her. He has never known anyone like this in his whole life, never known this strange and gentle kindness before, this light in her like a lantern in his everdark. In his perpetual night. There is something in her willingness that makes him feel less like a beast, something that guides him closer to the man he would’ve liked to be if he was ever given the choice.

    Her beauty is ethereal as she turns to find him, a thousand different shades of prismatic white, of shining gold on the edges of the wings held aloft at her sides - and that damn halo hanging above her ears that even now draws a quiet smile to his dark lips. She is so impossible, like a desperate wish or a daydream. Surreal in the way she lifts those dark eyes to him, touches her lips to his jaw like she isn’t mad at him.

    He doesn’t understand that, cannot possibly fathom that maybe she isn’t filled to the brim with regret for letting him touch her, have her. So much so that for a second he cannot unravel the meaning of the words she whispers against the marble of his dark and white skin. “What?” He asks, voice rough and haggard, frozen for a moment before he finally leans into her, submitting to his angel. “You want to stay?”

    She is transforming him the longer she stays, thawing all those frozen pieces inside his chest, thawing a long forgotten muscle in his mouth until it is soft with the hint of a smile. He reaches out to pull her closer, tucking her in against his chest and reaching over her to hold her treacherously close, press a kiss to her shoulder - though that leads to more kisses traced like remembered constellations up the curve of her neck. “Angel, you can stay here with me as long as you like.”


    Illum
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