i hate dreaming of being alone

AmaLIa

shield of safrin

Fingers on calves, featherlight and warm; her thighs tighten around him in response, pressing his body toward her, aching with the heat of need. Her kisses are hungry now, hands clenching over bicep and deltoid as she presses her lips against him, marks him as her own. Beside the skull tattoo it blooms, crimson and violet and unmistakable. Has she ever given a hickey before? She doesn't think so, but now that she sees it she can't help the satisfaction and pride that rises within her, a growl in her chest, her throat. Mine.

Then he's shifting in her arms, her legs, turning toward her, towering over her, the hunger in his eyes matching her own. She reaches for him as he lowers toward her, arms rising, weight anchored in his shoulders. When their mouths meet again it is with a note of passion, the girl wasting no time in exploring the space between his lips.

At the same time her left leg hooks over his hips, pulling her toward him, the intention clear. Her hair is nearly entirely purple now; claws clutch with dangerous ferocity at his shoulders, not enough to do any damage but enough to leave welts. The scales on her have multiplied, and if he pulls back enough to look at her face he will see her exhale a puff of harmless flame, her dark eyes hooded and her angled face flush with passion and desire.

you can't choose what stays
and what fades away