be

this is your sport

but she's not playing a game

Looks like they’re stuck with one another forever, then, if the two of them had their way about it. And she can’t find it in her to complain – not with how much they have in common, how similar yet different they are, how soft and gentle and kind he is in the face of her brash, blunt, impulsivity. He was the soft interior to her hard exterior, and she would coat her hands in so many layers of blood if it meant that he stayed safe and comfortable, without a single second thought.

But, thoughts of bloodlusts and all of that are on the wayside as she’s laid out across the bed, making room for him to stretch over her, her hands winding along muscles under the plush warm sweater and along dark hair that’s still lightly damp from the weather. His voice vibrates through her and she nearly hums a purr as her chin tilts up, letting him devour her skin whichever way he chose.

Arching her back into his touch as his hands slip beneath her shirt, she locks one leg around his, keeping him precisely where he is in proximity to her, warmth radiating from her as she purrs a “not in the slightest, Fox Sinclair.” She teases her drawl, before she helps him reveal her burn scarred skin, practically begging for him to keep claiming her body with his mouth.

do not think you are safe because you love her

do not think she won't stain her mouth red with your blood too

KIADA