you can never step in the same river twice
Unsurprisingly, you're very unhappy about this. "I don't want him as a mate or for fun. I do not like him." You say pointedly, and quite childishly in fact. Really the problem is that you don't know how to express what you're feeling. It's something about the dark side of randomness in this game that's meant to mask desire, but before you can concentrate on expressing your disapproval, Amun says something shockingly gentle that stills you.
As he moves the hair from your face you bristle at the touch, hating it, always hating it. But you suppose having hair in your mouth doesn't help kissing. You want to reach for your notebook to record this—your fingers stirring slightly—but there isn't time. Because suddenly the man with eyebrows that look like offensive (apparently) caterpillars are coming close and he's raising your head (bearing your neck, to bite, like a predator, like a--)...
..and then he's kissing you. And it isn't like Adam because it's soft and slow. But still no one has told you to close your eyes, and so they're open and critical and thoughtful. Then there's fangs and pressure and if he thinks he'll leave you breathless (for lack of oxygen, obviously), he's wrong. You puff an unhappy whirlwind through your nose, giving him a look as he pulls away.
"Why did you do it like that?" You ask, running the back of your palm over your bottom lip. Like that meaning something that instigated feeling, and you're unhappy about it.
As he moves the hair from your face you bristle at the touch, hating it, always hating it. But you suppose having hair in your mouth doesn't help kissing. You want to reach for your notebook to record this—your fingers stirring slightly—but there isn't time. Because suddenly the man with eyebrows that look like offensive (apparently) caterpillars are coming close and he's raising your head (bearing your neck, to bite, like a predator, like a--)...
..and then he's kissing you. And it isn't like Adam because it's soft and slow. But still no one has told you to close your eyes, and so they're open and critical and thoughtful. Then there's fangs and pressure and if he thinks he'll leave you breathless (for lack of oxygen, obviously), he's wrong. You puff an unhappy whirlwind through your nose, giving him a look as he pulls away.
"Why did you do it like that?" You ask, running the back of your palm over your bottom lip. Like that meaning something that instigated feeling, and you're unhappy about it.
