Don't paint wonderful lies on me that wash away
When she met him, Maea had been ice. Some sprite of the Halo tundra, picked up by a traveler and brought back into the midst of people... but she had been frozen to the core with grief and fear, paralyzed and unsure of what to do. Where to go. Who to be. Desperately keeping up a facade of having a goal, a plan, of knowing what she was doing, when in reality, she had no idea.
Then a stranger gave her shelter, showed her kindness, looked at her like there was something worth seeing. Held his hands out and offered her life, in a way that had been both a gift and a challenge. Take it, if you dare. And he had persisted as she hesitated, kept coming back for all that she pushed him away, like warm ocean waves lapping against a glacier, melting the ice of her errant iceberg little by little. And now... she had learned to burn. To crave and wish and long, to dream of something more than another tomorrow.
So she burned. Would have rushed this from beginning to end and left herself like so much ash to be washed away in his flood... only, he wouldn't let her. Sunjata knew this dance far better than she did, and he was steady. Responded to her greedy kisses with enough heat to let her know she wasn't alone in the wanting, with enough eagerness as his hands plucked at her dress fastenings, slid up her leg... but when his mouth traveled to her neck, he was unusually gentle. Tender, soft, like he planned to linger. She hummed her approval and tilted her head back, hair a white waterfall flowing down her back to tickle his fingers; he would always be welcome to stay there. The second place his lips ever touched, after her mouth. Maea had become quite addicted to the feel of his breath on her skin.
She hitched a breath as the cold metal of the belt buckle bit into the bare skin of her thighs. The hand that wasn't still kneading his hair brushed down the muscles of his shoulders and spine, to the small of his back, where it lingered. Nails scraping lightly over his skin, before curious fingers dipped in under the waistline of his pants, to squeeze at the firm muscles of his ass. Press his hips closer to hers, if he allowed it.
Then a stranger gave her shelter, showed her kindness, looked at her like there was something worth seeing. Held his hands out and offered her life, in a way that had been both a gift and a challenge. Take it, if you dare. And he had persisted as she hesitated, kept coming back for all that she pushed him away, like warm ocean waves lapping against a glacier, melting the ice of her errant iceberg little by little. And now... she had learned to burn. To crave and wish and long, to dream of something more than another tomorrow.
So she burned. Would have rushed this from beginning to end and left herself like so much ash to be washed away in his flood... only, he wouldn't let her. Sunjata knew this dance far better than she did, and he was steady. Responded to her greedy kisses with enough heat to let her know she wasn't alone in the wanting, with enough eagerness as his hands plucked at her dress fastenings, slid up her leg... but when his mouth traveled to her neck, he was unusually gentle. Tender, soft, like he planned to linger. She hummed her approval and tilted her head back, hair a white waterfall flowing down her back to tickle his fingers; he would always be welcome to stay there. The second place his lips ever touched, after her mouth. Maea had become quite addicted to the feel of his breath on her skin.
She hitched a breath as the cold metal of the belt buckle bit into the bare skin of her thighs. The hand that wasn't still kneading his hair brushed down the muscles of his shoulders and spine, to the small of his back, where it lingered. Nails scraping lightly over his skin, before curious fingers dipped in under the waistline of his pants, to squeeze at the firm muscles of his ass. Press his hips closer to hers, if he allowed it.
