You're so cold
but you feel alive
Heart thundering in her chest, in her head, the pulse was louder than the sound of his breathing and for a moment she was afraid. Trully, genuinely terrified of what she'd just done. It left her so vulnerable, like a wall teetering and ready to topple at the slightest push in any direction. Towards him, away from him, all at the mercy of his words. And if she'd learned anything so far, it was that she could only really trust his actions, because words... they meant very little unless lived by.
Eventually, what she got was a half reply. A shrugging kind of 'sure, why the heck' that came with conditions, clauses and again those lines in the sand. Drawing up a box of boundaries, rules... she could have him, but never make demands. Ask for things but never expect to get them. Have fun, but also never complain if that fun was not hers alone. It was acceptance and rejection all at once and... not exactly what she had been hoping for. Not that Maea knew what it was she'd wanted him to say, standing here in the rubbles of a shattered promise, with a man whose wife left because of teeth marks on his neck and wrist that spoke more plainly than explanations ever could.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Maea lowered her gaze and turned halfway towards him, moved to lean her back against the counter of the bar.
"Well... this is hardly any time to make decisions like that either," she said, still a bit red in the face. Eyes roaming the bar, the small oases of restored order in a desert of ruin. How many hours had passed since it all went down? It didn't matter, it would always be too soon. Her reply was somewhat evasive, stomach tight and churning from... what, she wasn't sure. Nerves, disappointment, excitement, all of it and none at the same time.
Mostly there was a sense of resistence. A strain against the idea of becoming some... plaything. A toy to be used and set aside when it got boring. But... perhaps that was just the ego talking.
Eventually, what she got was a half reply. A shrugging kind of 'sure, why the heck' that came with conditions, clauses and again those lines in the sand. Drawing up a box of boundaries, rules... she could have him, but never make demands. Ask for things but never expect to get them. Have fun, but also never complain if that fun was not hers alone. It was acceptance and rejection all at once and... not exactly what she had been hoping for. Not that Maea knew what it was she'd wanted him to say, standing here in the rubbles of a shattered promise, with a man whose wife left because of teeth marks on his neck and wrist that spoke more plainly than explanations ever could.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Maea lowered her gaze and turned halfway towards him, moved to lean her back against the counter of the bar.
"Well... this is hardly any time to make decisions like that either," she said, still a bit red in the face. Eyes roaming the bar, the small oases of restored order in a desert of ruin. How many hours had passed since it all went down? It didn't matter, it would always be too soon. Her reply was somewhat evasive, stomach tight and churning from... what, she wasn't sure. Nerves, disappointment, excitement, all of it and none at the same time.
Mostly there was a sense of resistence. A strain against the idea of becoming some... plaything. A toy to be used and set aside when it got boring. But... perhaps that was just the ego talking.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
