He listened to her, and not like the way that people half listened. He was interested in the story, the tale she told of how she came to be, of the scars and the brands and the life she’d gladly and eagerly left behind. Yet he leaned forward, despite the dark tale she wove of what the brand stood for, kissing it gently as he leaned back and looked to her again. Her eyes resting from his stubbled jawline to his lips and finally resting on his eyes. She snorted to him as he spoke of good things that start with a C, shaking her head slightly.
“I wish I could think of it better.” She offered with a small smile, yet he began to move and with him she went, following him as he settled on a word that suited her best, her smile widening and her nose crinkling with the movement. “You are a flirt.” She ended up saying as his voice ended softer, her arms linking up again around his neck, legs wrapping around his middle as he took them to wherever he deemed best. But as he spoke, of his own dark history, her thumb gently caressed his temple.
She nodded to him in understanding. No, she didn’t grow up with a number, but she had been a servant, a slave of some kind to an old system. When he spoke of being interested in exploring, she smiled to him kindly. His tale continued to weave, of books and adventures, of running off to gods knew where, until his tale landed with the kindness of the man that had taken him in. To which, her eyes remained on him and not where they were heading, nodding with him before her thumb paused by his temple. “We should dance sometime.” She murmured while he leaned back to look back at her – his dark eyes engulfing her as the water made waves over their bodies.
He began to speak again, however, of his kindness, and it caused a small almost sad smile to grow on her lips as she nodded along. “You’re a very kind person, Alistair. Despite all the terrible things that have happened, it didn’t change you.” She said, emphasizing it with her hand pressing against his chest over his heart. “It’s important that despite what you do, have done, or have to do, so long as you remain you and don’t change to become the very same terrible things you experienced, is worth it.” She said quietly, contemplatively. “I didn’t become all those things they said I was. They thought it, but they didn’t know if I were to be set free that it wouldn’t happen again.” She replied with a shrug of her shoulders, the water running from her neck. “The people who have done those things have nothing on you when you didn’t become what you sought to make better. That’s what I tell myself anyway.” Her head tilted slightly as he shrugged.
His legs wrapped around hers, and he leaned toward her so their lips met. At first it seemed soft and gentle, but it soon grew more intimate as they crashed and collided again, his hands rough from calluses gripped her cheeks gently at first and then growing hungrier as the kiss grew longer. Her breath hitched slightly as his lips left her own and moved toward her neck, along the side of it to which she lifted her head slightly. He moved toward the shallow end, his chin brushing her branded shoulder while he did so as he moved her around to where her back touched the rock he placed her against.
An almost breathless gasp escaped her lips as the chill of the stone reverberated through her. A slight grin forming on her lips as she tangled her fingers into his dark hair, her body pressing into him as she kissed him again and again. Her arms unwrapped themselves from around his neck, and instead she used them to pull him closer to her, her fingers and nails digging into his shoulders. She craved more and more, and she let him know as the waters lapped against their skin and her back touched the rock. She looped her legs around him and moved her head toward his neck, kissing and aiming a demanding bite where his neck met his shoulder.
RexannA
just because you are soft,
doesn't mean you're not a force.
honey and wildfire are both the color gold.
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