Amalia
the shield of safrin
Amalia arches into his scratches, basking in the attention as she slowly changes her skin. Her bare foot runs along his calf, toes curling against the muscles, light and teasing, an echoed response to his hand upon her thigh - large and firm, calloused and rough, hands she would recognize by a mere touch. Outside the birds sing of tasks to be undertaken, responsibilities that sit neglected beneath the winter sun. Amalia could list a hundred things she really ought to be doing today: preparations to be undertaken, perches to be built, people to go speak to, bread to deliver. She wants to check on the roses at the Spire and Safrin's shrine. There are luxere herds to go and feed, to coax into protecting their towns and homes. Amalia has a laundry list (which includes laundry) of tasks she must complete.
None of which are half as tempting as staying here, with him.
She grins against the side of his face, letting her lips trail up to his ear as he brings his mouth to her shoulder blade. She does not mind being his temptation, nor falling into his, when the reward for her sin is something close to heaven. "The world can live without bread for a day," she whispers into she shell of his ear, letting her tongue punctuate the words as it flits over his auricle.
The sleeve of her nightdress falls off her shoulder easily- the shirt is his, after all, far too broad for the slender girl. It comforts her to wear his things, wrap himself in him as she sleeps, satisfies a deep and primal need to be firmly marked as his. With a quiet laugh she rolls away, her arm pulled off him as her body shifts, lying on her back now, the loose white shirt halfway down her chest. "Unless, of course, you wanted me to go?" Her dark eyes glitter with mischief and invitation, a pretty half-pout on her coral lips which is wholly offset by the little bit of grin.
None of which are half as tempting as staying here, with him.
She grins against the side of his face, letting her lips trail up to his ear as he brings his mouth to her shoulder blade. She does not mind being his temptation, nor falling into his, when the reward for her sin is something close to heaven. "The world can live without bread for a day," she whispers into she shell of his ear, letting her tongue punctuate the words as it flits over his auricle.
The sleeve of her nightdress falls off her shoulder easily- the shirt is his, after all, far too broad for the slender girl. It comforts her to wear his things, wrap himself in him as she sleeps, satisfies a deep and primal need to be firmly marked as his. With a quiet laugh she rolls away, her arm pulled off him as her body shifts, lying on her back now, the loose white shirt halfway down her chest. "Unless, of course, you wanted me to go?" Her dark eyes glitter with mischief and invitation, a pretty half-pout on her coral lips which is wholly offset by the little bit of grin.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
