03-06-2020, 10:24 PM
From the precipice of her own defenses, Natalie fell willingly into the illusion; a world in which one day seemed more like possibility than dream, even if she only believed it for this moment. Moon-drenched skin and the vigil of a thousand silent stars proved a potent elixir. Tomorrow it might feel like foolishness, but today it was the centre of her universe. She treated it as such.
Caught in the rush of wanting and being wanted she desired nothing of temperance. He tasted as tangible as the escape haunting every vision she ever had of the future, and she found herself smiling around his kiss like she was caught somewhere timeless. Such fleeting insights into her true emotions were rare, though she barely noticed it at the time. Heat trailed from the pull of his hands. Maybe he was still thinking about where the bruises lay, but she wasn’t. He’d made himself a forbidden thing, or circumstance had. She didn’t believe in kismet anyway. And fortunately she was no saint.
She tugged the shirt up and over his head. Her fingers traced the new web of his scars like tenderness might one day fight to layer new memory over their infliction. Not to erase or rewrite, but to reclaim. The past would always exist. Light, he was warm. Alive, despite everything, and the sear of his skin proved an intoxicating distraction to getting him out of his clothes. The play of his hands in turn made her breathless, mounting an avalanche of urgency. Power still flushed her through, and maybe that was cheating, but if he noticed it was only a devil’s smirk she offered in explanation.
Amid pleasant distraction she led him backwards. The bed made a disconcerting sound before she distantly recalled the ruin of the room, but since neither of them fell straight through she only pulled him closer.
Caught in the rush of wanting and being wanted she desired nothing of temperance. He tasted as tangible as the escape haunting every vision she ever had of the future, and she found herself smiling around his kiss like she was caught somewhere timeless. Such fleeting insights into her true emotions were rare, though she barely noticed it at the time. Heat trailed from the pull of his hands. Maybe he was still thinking about where the bruises lay, but she wasn’t. He’d made himself a forbidden thing, or circumstance had. She didn’t believe in kismet anyway. And fortunately she was no saint.
She tugged the shirt up and over his head. Her fingers traced the new web of his scars like tenderness might one day fight to layer new memory over their infliction. Not to erase or rewrite, but to reclaim. The past would always exist. Light, he was warm. Alive, despite everything, and the sear of his skin proved an intoxicating distraction to getting him out of his clothes. The play of his hands in turn made her breathless, mounting an avalanche of urgency. Power still flushed her through, and maybe that was cheating, but if he noticed it was only a devil’s smirk she offered in explanation.
Amid pleasant distraction she led him backwards. The bed made a disconcerting sound before she distantly recalled the ruin of the room, but since neither of them fell straight through she only pulled him closer.