Each confession results in a shiver from her—but it’s not from fear. Instead it is a wave of desire that crashes through her, rising up against the tides of her heart. She can feel the violence coiled beneath him now, the darkness that threatens to overtake him, and she feels something similar in her too. Something that rises against the back of her throat, something hot and desperate and hungry.
The sin of him covers her hands and she gladly plunges them into the murk. She gladly dives into the depthless ocean of him and does not care how it will change her, how she has already been changed.
She is born of shadow and darkness anyway.
He is her birthright, she thinks.
He grabs at her, pulls her close, and she yields. There is nothing in her that would strike him down although she knows that she could. She could pull the heavens down between them as a forceful thing. Could sever the tie between them with a barrier of galaxies. But she doesn’t. Doesn’t want to.
If he breaks her flesh, if he crushes her beneath him, it will because she wants him to.
“Why should I give you what you can take for yourself?” She looks back at him with hooded eyes, a sleepy smile curling at the edges of her lips. She reaches forward and skims her mouth over his hip, feeling the heat underneath her touch like an inferno, feeling the tightening in her chest and the way that her blood simmers with need. She could submit further, she thinks—would gladly fold before him.
But he is a man who demands, who takes.
And she holds herself back, waiting for the violence to unleash.
I said I never knew the moral but I guess that's how the story goes
my lovers never been a mirror in the hour that I needed it most