Weaver
So precious is this life, this gift,
this temporary blindness.
this temporary blindness.
”Well if you ask like that, maybe I will,” she says, her voice a bit teasing, but there’s that purr as well. Her lips find his neck so she can bite playful at his skin as a hand runs down to slip her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants, just to be a little tantalizing.
Though as he answers more honestly, she stops, hand slipping back up his chest to cup his cheek in her palm. ”I have sort of gathered that. Yet you do fine with me. What is the difference?” Maybe the only difference is that she seems to have a rather endless amount of tolerance and patience for him where others do not. Maybe there was something else, though.
She pauses, looking up at him at the comment. ”I am half naked on top of you and there’s not much of your exposed pieces I haven’t touched. I’m not sure I can give you a better compliment.” Which is true enough, in a way, but she isn’t going to sit there and lie and tell him he’s the most handsome man she’d had when he’s not. ”Didn’t we just have a conversation about the fact you might actually have to try and how I like your messy hair and your stubbly chin anyway? And when you actually smile, Loren, like a real one. You are handsome as hell when you actually smile.” Not the desperate version of that smile, not the boy who didn’t see his own worth. Every once in a while she saw the man he could be, and it was that version of him that was attractive.
She decidedly does enjoy his lips though, which really should go without saying. Then they are shucking pants and he is pulling her close again. She wraps one leg around him, letting him draw her against him, lips parting for another kiss even as his hands tease at the inside of her thighs. One of her hands slips down to find his ass, giving it a bit of a squeeze. ”Mmm, you do have a good ass,” she says around the kiss, her voice amused, remembering their first meeting long ago when he’d told her he had a good ass to kick. She’s viewed it, as he’d stood up and turned around, but it was hardly the same as now.
Though as he answers more honestly, she stops, hand slipping back up his chest to cup his cheek in her palm. ”I have sort of gathered that. Yet you do fine with me. What is the difference?” Maybe the only difference is that she seems to have a rather endless amount of tolerance and patience for him where others do not. Maybe there was something else, though.
She pauses, looking up at him at the comment. ”I am half naked on top of you and there’s not much of your exposed pieces I haven’t touched. I’m not sure I can give you a better compliment.” Which is true enough, in a way, but she isn’t going to sit there and lie and tell him he’s the most handsome man she’d had when he’s not. ”Didn’t we just have a conversation about the fact you might actually have to try and how I like your messy hair and your stubbly chin anyway? And when you actually smile, Loren, like a real one. You are handsome as hell when you actually smile.” Not the desperate version of that smile, not the boy who didn’t see his own worth. Every once in a while she saw the man he could be, and it was that version of him that was attractive.
She decidedly does enjoy his lips though, which really should go without saying. Then they are shucking pants and he is pulling her close again. She wraps one leg around him, letting him draw her against him, lips parting for another kiss even as his hands tease at the inside of her thighs. One of her hands slips down to find his ass, giving it a bit of a squeeze. ”Mmm, you do have a good ass,” she says around the kiss, her voice amused, remembering their first meeting long ago when he’d told her he had a good ass to kick. She’s viewed it, as he’d stood up and turned around, but it was hardly the same as now.
Burn and drown and embrace the false dark,
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
then grasp the unthinkable height of resulting joy.
