had my doubts but i let them out
you are the drought
Oh, so he wants to play a game of make believe? To get in my space and assert his dominance, as though I were that easily appeased, cowed? Sunny, I'm not your pretty little midwife, blond and blue eyes and fragile in your embrace. I'm your flame remember? I've resisted you before. And I can do it again, for as long as I want.
But damn, if I don't want to anymore.
"So you miss being a noble prick, getting blood on my bar top night after night?" My expression is challenging as he presses against me, his breath so heavy I can feel it on my face. "You miss being an Arbiter's son, trying to fit in with people whose lives you could scarcely begin to comprehend?" Oh yeah, he'd sauntered in like he owned the place, and it had taken a good deal of beatings for him to understand. There in the rebellion, it wasn't about how much damage you could deal. It was about how many blows you could take.
And I've taken far more than my fair share, Sunny. So maybe you should shut up and take yours.
Except you wouldn't be my flood if you did, would you? No, you never took anything lying down, and it was something I always admired, even in those early days- even now, when I see so much of that soft little noble prick reflected in your eyes. I can feel every place where your body is touching mine, feel if like fire and ice and brimstone, like standing in the pouring rain with the steam rolling off of, our heat visible in the pale light of dawn. "And how are you going to fix it, hmm?" I whisper up at him, my voice a hot hiss. "With pretty tattoos and princeling bullshit, like I'm just some tavern wench?" Show me how much you want me, Sunny. Show me just what you intend to fix.
"So you miss being a noble prick, getting blood on my bar top night after night?" My expression is challenging as he presses against me, his breath so heavy I can feel it on my face. "You miss being an Arbiter's son, trying to fit in with people whose lives you could scarcely begin to comprehend?" Oh yeah, he'd sauntered in like he owned the place, and it had taken a good deal of beatings for him to understand. There in the rebellion, it wasn't about how much damage you could deal. It was about how many blows you could take.
And I've taken far more than my fair share, Sunny. So maybe you should shut up and take yours.
Except you wouldn't be my flood if you did, would you? No, you never took anything lying down, and it was something I always admired, even in those early days- even now, when I see so much of that soft little noble prick reflected in your eyes. I can feel every place where your body is touching mine, feel if like fire and ice and brimstone, like standing in the pouring rain with the steam rolling off of, our heat visible in the pale light of dawn. "And how are you going to fix it, hmm?" I whisper up at him, my voice a hot hiss. "With pretty tattoos and princeling bullshit, like I'm just some tavern wench?" Show me how much you want me, Sunny. Show me just what you intend to fix.
and i'm the holy water
you have been without
LusEA
