[ when she finally breaks away to breathe, she is tousled and flushed and too startled with her own wanting to remember to mask it from him — either the surprise or the wanting. her kefta is rumpled and her hair slightly loose as she peers up at him, agog.
saints, she needs to get away from him. she has to. ]
Your lip. [ she says, reaching up to touch her own and recognizing the taste of iron for what it is. she'd drawn blood. ]
no subject
saints, she needs to get away from him. she has to. ]
Your lip. [ she says, reaching up to touch her own and recognizing the taste of iron for what it is. she'd drawn blood. ]