AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
Their proximity was intimate and it made her skin warm, her eyes burst with color as they reflected everything - the spit of fire, the doubts, the fear, the hues of his skin and eyes, the want that made her hand flex against the muscle running along his shoulder. She could feel the little goosebumps beneath her palm, and it made her pull back. Even if she thought she was holding back, thought that she was keeping control over the situation, she was sorely losing the struggle. That wall she'd built, tall and stony, it wanted to come undone. It was fucking tired.
But she wanted to protect herself, and maybe she wanted to protect Milo too...
Aurelia let her hand drift from his shoulder down the length of his arm absently. It fell back into her lap and she straightened, that gaze wavering against his. She couldn't say anything more before he was turning to face her directly. Knee pressed against knee. And there it was again, pressing closer, the warmth, the faint scent of alcohol, the distinct way he breathed.
Her guard could only steel, a frown on her lips and conflict threading her brows. A distant look fixed in her eye to replace the craving and fear and flush and... Agh! Stop looking at me! She wanted to scream it at him but, for all the heinous things she'd done, she didn't have the heart to. Her, the merciless, stone cold killer, she couldn't tell him to fuck right off. All the rejections and excuses she could think of caught in her throat, where they were snuffed out.
"Yeah well, if you did, you wouldn't be this close to me right now," she challenged him, finally finding her voice again after what felt like an eternity but really was only a few moments of painful silence. She let out a long breath through her nostrils, which flared, "I don't want to hurt you, or anybody else. But I can't pretend I didn't hurt others before. You have no idea, the kind of world I come from. How different it is from here," she pressed her thumb to her lip nervously, pressing the skin before releasing it, "or what it turned me into."
But she wanted to protect herself, and maybe she wanted to protect Milo too...
Aurelia let her hand drift from his shoulder down the length of his arm absently. It fell back into her lap and she straightened, that gaze wavering against his. She couldn't say anything more before he was turning to face her directly. Knee pressed against knee. And there it was again, pressing closer, the warmth, the faint scent of alcohol, the distinct way he breathed.
Her guard could only steel, a frown on her lips and conflict threading her brows. A distant look fixed in her eye to replace the craving and fear and flush and... Agh! Stop looking at me! She wanted to scream it at him but, for all the heinous things she'd done, she didn't have the heart to. Her, the merciless, stone cold killer, she couldn't tell him to fuck right off. All the rejections and excuses she could think of caught in her throat, where they were snuffed out.
"Yeah well, if you did, you wouldn't be this close to me right now," she challenged him, finally finding her voice again after what felt like an eternity but really was only a few moments of painful silence. She let out a long breath through her nostrils, which flared, "I don't want to hurt you, or anybody else. But I can't pretend I didn't hurt others before. You have no idea, the kind of world I come from. How different it is from here," she pressed her thumb to her lip nervously, pressing the skin before releasing it, "or what it turned me into."
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
