Maea
The worst of all blessings
The air seemed so close, here on the forest floor. Perfectly still, and electric. Like the pressure building before a thunderstorm. Or maybe the distant rumble lived inside her veins, driven by the beat of a heart wiith no defenses against this kind of onslaught. Sex had never been something she ever learned to wield as a weapon. All she knew was the need it kindled, the terrible power it could have over a person. She'd only ever felt attraction when connected intellectually, emotionally, halfway to handing herself over heart and soul.
There was plenty of uncertainty tied to that. It wasn't done lightly, after all. But at the very least... when it came to this, she was not afraid. Not much. Just what any woman would feel before sharing a kiss for the first time; only that very normal, utterly human trepidation that what she hoped for might not come true.
The path his hand took from her hand, along the arm and to her cheek left a trail of light behind. When he brushed along her neck, her head fell back in unspoken invitation, a response so ingrained she didn't realise she had moved. But the only hands she thought of was his, and the eyes that filled her vision were green as the forest, golden as the sun - and she didn't recall ever wanting anything as much as she wanted to feel his mouth upon hers.
The nod was a small thing, barely a flinch. Not good enough, not when he asked her like that. "Yes," she managed to say, a small rebellion against her seizing lungs, "I'd like that..."
Her hand had lingered on his cheek, but moved now. Slid down to cup the side of his neck, applying the smallest bit of pressure to the back of it. A question, an invitation - a please that never made it off her tongue.
There was plenty of uncertainty tied to that. It wasn't done lightly, after all. But at the very least... when it came to this, she was not afraid. Not much. Just what any woman would feel before sharing a kiss for the first time; only that very normal, utterly human trepidation that what she hoped for might not come true.
The path his hand took from her hand, along the arm and to her cheek left a trail of light behind. When he brushed along her neck, her head fell back in unspoken invitation, a response so ingrained she didn't realise she had moved. But the only hands she thought of was his, and the eyes that filled her vision were green as the forest, golden as the sun - and she didn't recall ever wanting anything as much as she wanted to feel his mouth upon hers.
The nod was a small thing, barely a flinch. Not good enough, not when he asked her like that. "Yes," she managed to say, a small rebellion against her seizing lungs, "I'd like that..."
Her hand had lingered on his cheek, but moved now. Slid down to cup the side of his neck, applying the smallest bit of pressure to the back of it. A question, an invitation - a please that never made it off her tongue.
The most beautiful of curses
Base by Skylark
