[ her back arches, pushing her chest up against his mouth, while her fingers tangle in his hair to hold onto him. a steadying force, a welcome stability. the sting of his teeth is too sharp to fully sink into–it keeps her alert, sensitive to each little shift of his body. ]
Yes. [ she reluctantly loosens her grip with one hand, moves it between them instead. her fingers trace along the path of old, vanished bruises, as she had done a dozen times, a hundred times, after that night. showing him the old paths, and more importantly, revealing to him her familiarity with them. ]
Give me more. [ ones that aren't stained by their association with that night, that are not just more sweet than they are bitter, but are entirely hers. she thinks of his promise to be hers, wholly, and of the marks she'd left on his skin with the candle wax. wonders how many others had seen it, and if he had thought of her when they did. the hand that remains in his hair moves now down to his shoulders, nails digging long red lines. ] I'll repay you in kind.
no subject
Yes. [ she reluctantly loosens her grip with one hand, moves it between them instead. her fingers trace along the path of old, vanished bruises, as she had done a dozen times, a hundred times, after that night. showing him the old paths, and more importantly, revealing to him her familiarity with them. ]
Give me more. [ ones that aren't stained by their association with that night, that are not just more sweet than they are bitter, but are entirely hers. she thinks of his promise to be hers, wholly, and of the marks she'd left on his skin with the candle wax. wonders how many others had seen it, and if he had thought of her when they did. the hand that remains in his hair moves now down to his shoulders, nails digging long red lines. ] I'll repay you in kind.