when i go towards you it is with my whole life.

[heorte]

You came to the side of the bed and sat staring at me. Then you kissed me—I felt hot wax on my forehead. I wanted it to leave a mark: that’s how I knew I loved you. Because I wanted to be burned, stamped, to have something in the end— I drew the gown over my head; a red flush covered my face and shoulders. It will run its course, the course of fire, setting a cold coin on the forehead, between the eyes. You lay beside me; your hand moved over my face as though you had felt it also- you must have known, then, how I wanted you. We will always know that, you and I. The proof will be my body. — louise glück

Comments

Yyy

[heirring]

What is she expecting? Truthfully, she doesn't quite know. Something slow and firm, maybe. Sturdy and patient in that way he has which is not to humor her, but certainly a kind of indulgence. Even the press of fingers shifting into her hair isn't unexpected but—

But the way he tilts her chin up and this, how he absorbs the space they'd remade and fills it completely, is. There is a thrill in it that catches her breath. That becomes the most pleasant ache. The tangle of her fingers in his hair becomes a pressing thing, and between them where her other hand is at liberty she finds some unexamined grip on him. His side. The fabric of his damp tunic is easily clutched there.

The brief catch of teeth elicits the softest sound from her as he draws back. For a moment, her face remains tilted up—something heated and heavy through the whole of her—and her initial noise of protest is a formless, thoughtless thing. And brief, as a moment later she recalls her terms enough to regret them.

"Oh." Her hands on him come grudgingly undone. "Yes. I suppose it ought to."

And then, in a burst of lively self inflicted agony: "—Oh, how terrible! You must promise to never listen to me again, Ellis. And certainly never to make any other agreement with me!"

She thumps him in the shoulder for good measure before managing to both extricate herself and collapse dramatically onto her back in the clover.

(Which is, really, the best version of a last kiss she could have possibly contrived.)

coolcool yell your wishes at me for a new thing into discord and i will grant them

[heorte]

There is a fleeting urge to follow her down, bracket her face with his hands and kiss her again, and again, and again.

Instead, Ellis lands on his back, head returned to the saddlebag, and reminds himself of all the reasons he'd said it would be the last to balance out how very badly he had wanted to continue on. Across the crushed bed of clover, his hand steals into hers.

And, true to form, there's a stretch of quiet in answer. Ellis' grin remains even as the deep rise and fall of his chest evens out. Eventually, he kisses her knuckles.

"Come along," is so, so fond. Ellis is levering himself up already, drawing her by the hand with him. "We should start our ride back, before it gets dark and cold."

Before they are tempted to stay. The pleasure of being sun-warmed and slightly damp will go with the sun, and Ellis wants to hold onto it, ride back with the sun on their faces.

It's a good day. He wants it fixed in his mind as such.