09-29-2018, 03:48 PM
She tormented herself as much as him. Devilishly close; just the brush of her hand against his cheek, a tease perched on her lips but in the end unspent. It was his smile, that bloody smile, which did it; sparking something kindred that unspooled in her chest, and she was utterly content to unravel. His arms captured as she bridged the distance, the flush press of his body chasing fire that had probably been banked for longer than she cared to admit.
It'd barely been days since they'd kissed at the ball, but a chasm spanned the eons between then and now. Life and death. Wars won and lost. Unconquered demons clawed her lower than she'd ever wanted anyone to see, a path she'd probably trip down again, though for now she vowed not to. Good intentions wrought dangerous crossroads, a snare apt to catch them both. Even now the future flickered uncertain; she wasn't that kind of foolish. And yet she sought to find joy for them where she could, or make it even in those dark places where dawn's light never touched. Stupid promises probably, and not ones he'd ever hear her utter. But she'd lead him on, a co-conspirator to that madness; wearing a wicked smirk and beckoning for as long as he chose to follow her into that timeless sanctuary.
The sun brushed below the horizon, but it was not yet dark. Shadows skipped but did not cover, and the last time she looked boats still clung against the darkening blue. They were hardly far from the main path, either, plain enough to passers-by or impatient little sisters. But sense didn't penetrate very far. Not when his hands threaded through her hair like that; not when she felt hesitation fray loose and the world quiet around them.
She tugged him gently backwards, thinking of the sheltering trees all around, path thwarted by the table she'd forgotten was there, though hands at her waist made short work of the obstacle. Her fingers brushed up beneath his shirt, begging closer contact. With her thighs cradling his hips, the weight of his touch began to spiral more urgency. But frustration built its peak too. She wanted him far more thoroughly than a fumble to satisfy base needs. To peel him from his clothes slowly, and explore every facet beneath with fingertips and mouth; to feel that soul-tugging grin against her kiss, the melt of his breath in sigh and in hunger, until escape to the brink bordered on exquisite.
Hooting and hollering across the water pierced her consciousness slower than it should. It wasn't like she was shy. No blushes warmed her cheeks beyond the flush of desire, and she didn't flinch or pull back upon recognition of an unwelcome audience. She did laugh though, even if it was the cruellest of jokes. How much control was one person supposed to have? Light. "Maybe next time we choose somewhere more convenient to make up." Though if he offered a hand now, she'd take it; even if it led to the very edge of the universe. Especially if it led to the very edge of the universe. She almost wished he would.
But looking at him now, trying to ignore the flare of her pulse, her mind circled back to that earlier question. It would be easy to go with him and say nothing; easy to pursue her own line of enquiries and never admit to what she knew or how she knew it. She could work around his ignorance, knowing he would never countenance the sort of danger she was apt to put herself in when the risk was acceptable (and sometimes when it wasn't).
But it would mean letting go of this. Quiet deceptions would be a betrayal she couldn't bring herself to meet his eye after, not with the value she placed on truth. The boundaries bordering acceptance were not things she trusted; sometimes honesty itself brought its own ruin. But she preferred it over false comfort. And if she was brutal, she would rather rejection because he saw her plainly than an acceptance born of illusory silence. She couldn't let go, but she couldn't stay quiet either.
Maybe he would hate that she shattered the peace, though for her this was only a different kind. Her pale eyes were piercing; translucent honesty, if he cared to look. He would either understand, or he wouldn't. Still, the words were soft. "You were talking to yourself in the barn. I found Zacarias's name on the ball's guest list. I was angry you didn't tell me. I was angry you didn't trust me." She was going to regret it if he recoiled; she could already feel the numbness spreading out like a foregone conclusion. But she'd regret saying nothing more. "I read that file this morning. Texas buys us time, but it isn't a solution."
It'd barely been days since they'd kissed at the ball, but a chasm spanned the eons between then and now. Life and death. Wars won and lost. Unconquered demons clawed her lower than she'd ever wanted anyone to see, a path she'd probably trip down again, though for now she vowed not to. Good intentions wrought dangerous crossroads, a snare apt to catch them both. Even now the future flickered uncertain; she wasn't that kind of foolish. And yet she sought to find joy for them where she could, or make it even in those dark places where dawn's light never touched. Stupid promises probably, and not ones he'd ever hear her utter. But she'd lead him on, a co-conspirator to that madness; wearing a wicked smirk and beckoning for as long as he chose to follow her into that timeless sanctuary.
The sun brushed below the horizon, but it was not yet dark. Shadows skipped but did not cover, and the last time she looked boats still clung against the darkening blue. They were hardly far from the main path, either, plain enough to passers-by or impatient little sisters. But sense didn't penetrate very far. Not when his hands threaded through her hair like that; not when she felt hesitation fray loose and the world quiet around them.
She tugged him gently backwards, thinking of the sheltering trees all around, path thwarted by the table she'd forgotten was there, though hands at her waist made short work of the obstacle. Her fingers brushed up beneath his shirt, begging closer contact. With her thighs cradling his hips, the weight of his touch began to spiral more urgency. But frustration built its peak too. She wanted him far more thoroughly than a fumble to satisfy base needs. To peel him from his clothes slowly, and explore every facet beneath with fingertips and mouth; to feel that soul-tugging grin against her kiss, the melt of his breath in sigh and in hunger, until escape to the brink bordered on exquisite.
Hooting and hollering across the water pierced her consciousness slower than it should. It wasn't like she was shy. No blushes warmed her cheeks beyond the flush of desire, and she didn't flinch or pull back upon recognition of an unwelcome audience. She did laugh though, even if it was the cruellest of jokes. How much control was one person supposed to have? Light. "Maybe next time we choose somewhere more convenient to make up." Though if he offered a hand now, she'd take it; even if it led to the very edge of the universe. Especially if it led to the very edge of the universe. She almost wished he would.
But looking at him now, trying to ignore the flare of her pulse, her mind circled back to that earlier question. It would be easy to go with him and say nothing; easy to pursue her own line of enquiries and never admit to what she knew or how she knew it. She could work around his ignorance, knowing he would never countenance the sort of danger she was apt to put herself in when the risk was acceptable (and sometimes when it wasn't).
But it would mean letting go of this. Quiet deceptions would be a betrayal she couldn't bring herself to meet his eye after, not with the value she placed on truth. The boundaries bordering acceptance were not things she trusted; sometimes honesty itself brought its own ruin. But she preferred it over false comfort. And if she was brutal, she would rather rejection because he saw her plainly than an acceptance born of illusory silence. She couldn't let go, but she couldn't stay quiet either.
Maybe he would hate that she shattered the peace, though for her this was only a different kind. Her pale eyes were piercing; translucent honesty, if he cared to look. He would either understand, or he wouldn't. Still, the words were soft. "You were talking to yourself in the barn. I found Zacarias's name on the ball's guest list. I was angry you didn't tell me. I was angry you didn't trust me." She was going to regret it if he recoiled; she could already feel the numbness spreading out like a foregone conclusion. But she'd regret saying nothing more. "I read that file this morning. Texas buys us time, but it isn't a solution."