Maeve
Rumors spread like wildfire in a place like Torchline, but it doesn't change the fact that they would have spread even if they did nothing at all. Even if they had shared tea in the lounge or a meal or existed in the same fucking space as one another. They would spread simply because he was the Flood and she was the Madame. There was no way around it. They both knew it. Maeve would do her part to dispel them, not daring to let anyone question whether the child was his or not, but all would do so anyway. It was the way of things.
His jaw feathers under her touch and she can feel his heartbeat thundering through his shirt where they're pressed together, balanced on the precipice so precariously it would only take a sudden wind to push them both over the edge. Her name falls from his lips, strained and edging on a whine, rolling through her in a way she's not expecting. She shudders against his, a shaky breath exhaled across his pulse as she dares to press a kiss there, the faintest scrape of teeth just the way he likes. "Jata..." Maeve breathes, voice already dipping down into something edging on needy, following the same path she just took until their looking at each other again.
She can feel his hands on the outsides of her knees, feel the claws that take shape there, pressing into the cushions of the couch and threatening to tear them to shreds with his barely held self control. Heated jade meet simmering steel, her own chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly as she takes in greedy sips of air through parted lips, tongue darting out to wet them as his question is aired.
They both know what she really needs is for Locke to come back; for him to not have left in the first place, but that isn't an option right now. All she has is this. Maeve nods, the movement almost imperceptible as her fingers curl at the nape of his neck, tightening in his hair. "Yes." The word is no louder than his own, whispered in a rush against his lips, not closing the space between them even as everything screams at her to do so.
His jaw feathers under her touch and she can feel his heartbeat thundering through his shirt where they're pressed together, balanced on the precipice so precariously it would only take a sudden wind to push them both over the edge. Her name falls from his lips, strained and edging on a whine, rolling through her in a way she's not expecting. She shudders against his, a shaky breath exhaled across his pulse as she dares to press a kiss there, the faintest scrape of teeth just the way he likes. "Jata..." Maeve breathes, voice already dipping down into something edging on needy, following the same path she just took until their looking at each other again.
She can feel his hands on the outsides of her knees, feel the claws that take shape there, pressing into the cushions of the couch and threatening to tear them to shreds with his barely held self control. Heated jade meet simmering steel, her own chest beginning to rise and fall more rapidly as she takes in greedy sips of air through parted lips, tongue darting out to wet them as his question is aired.
They both know what she really needs is for Locke to come back; for him to not have left in the first place, but that isn't an option right now. All she has is this. Maeve nods, the movement almost imperceptible as her fingers curl at the nape of his neck, tightening in his hair. "Yes." The word is no louder than his own, whispered in a rush against his lips, not closing the space between them even as everything screams at her to do so.
NO ONE WANTS YOU WHEN YOU HAVE NO HEART
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS
AND I’M SITTING PRETTY IN MY BRAND NEW SCARS
