NATE
This is how he starts the healing process, for the both of them. By washing the pain away, covering it with something bright and shiny and right. Creating a moment that will last forever, that neither of them ever hve to leave, if they don’t want to. Lying to both of them, though every stolen second makes it harder and harder to disbelieve. A soft noise groans out of Nate, vulnerable and sharp, hungry beneath it all, and his hands clench around Ru tighter, holding her like he’ll never let her go. She’s leaving, and he simply can’t accept that.
Hands that a very good impression of being naturally warm stroke over the abandoneds back, those clutching, clinging things replaced by holographic facsimiles that seem to hum in the water around them. Nate slips away, severing the euphoria so he can suck a dark mark into her throat, like a beast desperately trying to stake its claim. Panting against her throat, he shifts, letting his head slip the other direction, a wet hand lifting to tangle in blonde tresses and tease Hotaru’s head in the other direction, guiding, firm, but so gentle. She’s made of glass, she’s delicate in his arms, despite all the ways Nate knows this isn’t true at all. He wants to believe it, wants her to believe that he believes it. Wants to give her some tool to punish him with, even if all the intention robs the point away entirely.
While one hand caresses her head, the other finds its way to her breast, Nate’s fingers sharper here, in a way she’d shown him she liked their very first time together. Kisses press against her shoulder, softening her up for another bite, another desperate groan leaving Nate, muffled by pale skin. His hips roll up against her, muscle memory and despite want, and his fingers twist in her hair.
Hands that a very good impression of being naturally warm stroke over the abandoneds back, those clutching, clinging things replaced by holographic facsimiles that seem to hum in the water around them. Nate slips away, severing the euphoria so he can suck a dark mark into her throat, like a beast desperately trying to stake its claim. Panting against her throat, he shifts, letting his head slip the other direction, a wet hand lifting to tangle in blonde tresses and tease Hotaru’s head in the other direction, guiding, firm, but so gentle. She’s made of glass, she’s delicate in his arms, despite all the ways Nate knows this isn’t true at all. He wants to believe it, wants her to believe that he believes it. Wants to give her some tool to punish him with, even if all the intention robs the point away entirely.
While one hand caresses her head, the other finds its way to her breast, Nate’s fingers sharper here, in a way she’d shown him she liked their very first time together. Kisses press against her shoulder, softening her up for another bite, another desperate groan leaving Nate, muffled by pale skin. His hips roll up against her, muscle memory and despite want, and his fingers twist in her hair.
I am tasting myself
In the mouth of the sun
In the mouth of the sun
