Amalia
stop thinking so much
"I can't wait to dance with you again, next Fiat Lux," Amalia murmurs, onyx gaze meeting his blue, searing brightly in his sky. I will love you for a year, and another one after, and each one after that.
She smiles and murmurs as his hands close on her waist, leaning into the onslaught of lips, trying to focus on her self-appointed task even as his embrace distracts and entrances. Fingers lather through his long mane, massaging and playing and gently detangling - and truly, can she be blamed if her task brings her forward, pushes her body more closely to his? Her legs lock easily around his waist, a comfortable, familiar position for them now; she takes her time lathering his hair, arching as his mouth reaches her collarbone. "You aren't making this easy-" but it is a half-hearted protest, her body clearly wild and wanton, happy with his attention, happy to take and take.
When as last the soap is to her satisfaction Amalia lowers down, slipping firmly into his lap, her hips pressed against his. She lets her arms hang over his shoulders as she moves to capture his lips, thoroughly distracted, young and hungry, a brazen and wild youth in heat.
you're breaking your own heart
