Not fit for cocoa

MELITA

If Melita thought herself caught and snagged on the same lines and tethers, she scarcely noticed; far too busy gloating in her own triumph. She leaned in closer at his touch, scarcely breaths away, the proud grin turning into a softer, glowing smirk – not used to the lazy, languid, listless way of existing, of taking and snagging at one another, instead of chasing down those hollowed granules of nothing at all. She gave no thought of retreating, for there was nothing to run away from; immersed and surrounded and content, despite the feral inclination to perhaps bite at his lower lip and see how much she could get away with.

She probably would’ve tried had he not immediately relented in a tease – snorting at the implications, but the answering smile was enough to signify that she wasn’t offended in the least. “I’ll remember that,” came as the ghost of a threat (though he shouldn’t be surprised if she ended up kicking him in the middle of the night), and she shifted closer, hands tangling behind his neck, interwoven little fixtures and portions of skin that she committed to memory; pathways of Iskra that she hadn’t known as well before.

At his sigh though, and the more serious conjecture to his eyes, she stilled, brow raised, waiting for something inevitable to come crashing down. But when it didn’t, and he proclaimed acceptance of her, her eyes widened, letting the manifestation of his words spark their way through. He’d taken all her flaws, of which there were many, and still cherished her just the same – something not many would dare, or have the strength, to do. The Honeybee had always been easily waylaid by others – at least, when it came to her father, or those like Jack, unwanted, not something or someone to bother with. And she knew she wasn’t the same person Iskra had grown alongside; no less wild, but certainly less gentle and forgiving. Too much of a tempest now, waiting for any excuse to bristle and fight. So her features softened, the quirk of her Cheshire smile altering to something brighter and grander, head tilting, eyes tracking his movements, following the change in angles, whispering against his mouth. “Well, that sort of flattery will get you everywhere.”

Absorbed for moments more as she pulled him in for another longer, deeper kiss, and then giggling when the scratch of his beard lingered on her cheek, over her chin. Thereafter though, she whispered along the depths of his jaw. “You make me feel safe,” a rare occurrence for an individual always looking to deal the first and last blow, who'd fought tooth and nail to get where she was today.

You're all gonna watch me
Disappear into the sun