so casually cruel in the name of being honest

Maeve

Maeve doesn't have to be in his head to know that he's just as mixed up as she is. A lot has happened and it isn't just for her. He has his own shit going on. Maeve doesn't judge him for it. Not when she's just as fucked up as he is. Whether she wants to admit it or not. Maeve clings to him, hissing as his teeth find her, tugging at the kiss swollen lip sharply as if he's repaying her for the pain she's caused him too. That's okay. He can do that. Gods if she doesn't fucking deserve it.

Her eyes search him, trying to find whatever it is he's hiding behind that hazel gaze, but she finds nothing. It's still all locked away from her and she can't get in. Not yet. She's not sure if she ever will. Maeve moans softly at his plead, the sound cut off by his lips find hers once more. She pours all she is into the kiss, making silent promises to him that she can't admit out loud just yet. That she wants to keep just for him.

That heat in her belly crackles through her, blazing through her nerves, lighting them on fire as she arches. Maeve can't help crying out, his name lost on her lips as she begins to tremble. It seems to last hours and seconds at the same time, every muscle growing taut before relaxing in his hold as the heat returns to a simmer, holding her in its gentle warmth. She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and along his throat in a silent encouragement.

These violent delights
Have violent ends