You're so cold
but you feel alive
Maea was honestly surprised. Loren did not look strong. He looked pale and scrawny and all kids of pushover. Not someone who could grievously injure Sunjata, or best him in any kind of fight. Could magic really make you that strong? Was the combination of magic and the favor of gods truly such a force to be reckoned with?
She saw the way Sunjata's lips curled, heard his quiet vow, and nodded. Leaned into him as he did to her, and met his kiss with lips that didn't feel quite so numb when they were pressed to his. The mouth that trailed down her jaw, towards her neck, was warm. It drove the thoughts of other men and magic and gods right out of her mind, until only he remained. His hands on her back, keeping them both warm. Keeping them close.
"Next time we'll win," she agreed, a fervent vow delivered with distracted voice, that caught a little as warm breath rushing across her skin made her shiver. Aching. Needy. Gods, would she ever get tired of being close to this man? If this was only the beginning, then... Pale hands dipped in beneath the collar of his shirt. Feathered out across his inked shoulders, pushing the cloth away. Maea leaned her head back with a soft sound escaping her throat, offering up her neck to him.
He loved lingering there. She loved having him there. Common ground.
She saw the way Sunjata's lips curled, heard his quiet vow, and nodded. Leaned into him as he did to her, and met his kiss with lips that didn't feel quite so numb when they were pressed to his. The mouth that trailed down her jaw, towards her neck, was warm. It drove the thoughts of other men and magic and gods right out of her mind, until only he remained. His hands on her back, keeping them both warm. Keeping them close.
"Next time we'll win," she agreed, a fervent vow delivered with distracted voice, that caught a little as warm breath rushing across her skin made her shiver. Aching. Needy. Gods, would she ever get tired of being close to this man? If this was only the beginning, then... Pale hands dipped in beneath the collar of his shirt. Feathered out across his inked shoulders, pushing the cloth away. Maea leaned her head back with a soft sound escaping her throat, offering up her neck to him.
He loved lingering there. She loved having him there. Common ground.
lay your hands on me
one last time
MAEA
