Midsweet Talk, Words Cut Out
flutter
There is the silken flesh, cool and smooth, a contrast to the heat burning fragments under his calloused skin, shaping into a cup to encase his cheek, and despite himself he finds that he's leaning against it, relishing in the softness of the touch. It's been an eternity and a few days, since someone has held him like this.
The proximity lessens like a dripping, waxen candle, and there's a butterfly fluttering comfort into his ear, speech woven from sheer emotion and sincerity making the stress slip away from his breath. The twin palm lands on his eager chest, beats thumping out like war cries from an anxious heart, and wills it still, calmed; tells the struggling soldier inside to mount from his steed and satisfy his need for rest, banishing the battle to yet another day's creeping sunrise.
The hand mapping the lines on his face steers slender fingers over the chapped surface of his lips, a prelude to the vanishing bittersweet contact for later. It's almost like a dance, graceful and ever-slow; a cacophony of movements defying gravity and time. No other laws are in order, save for the unspoken covenant for gold to remain fixated on her mouth.
I'm here, silently she says, and he does not hear the words, but rather, feels them. He shivers, for a reason he cannot defend or explain, and the quietest of smiles blooms into a rose-petal blush on her facade.
You are, he attempts to speak, and his inability to continue overwhelms him, triggering the scorching fire behind his eyes. Blows began to reverberate through his frame, the blood-seeking muscle within him constricting and bursting in split instants. Desperation crawled through him in search for the exact; was there even a way to express how she made him feel?
His coiled arms crush around her in heated, clutching embrace; keeping her to him for as long as anything allows him to. Surprise lights up the gray in her careful stare, and there is a rare tinge of mirth in her tone; If you're going to ask me to stay, you're too late, and his hold gingerly shatters, but regains bravado when she continues.
I would've done it anyway, and he knows, he knows, right then, that he loves her. It encompasses whys and hows and because; none of it matters, and he just does, so he thinks to show her as he claims what she had meant to give him.
Oh, a sighgasp escapes in her even voice, a kiss colliding with hers and the world, with all its rules and words and tomorrows, tries to seek its lost children as they hide away, misplaced somewhere in time.
The proximity lessens like a dripping, waxen candle, and there's a butterfly fluttering comfort into his ear, speech woven from sheer emotion and sincerity making the stress slip away from his breath. The twin palm lands on his eager chest, beats thumping out like war cries from an anxious heart, and wills it still, calmed; tells the struggling soldier inside to mount from his steed and satisfy his need for rest, banishing the battle to yet another day's creeping sunrise.
The hand mapping the lines on his face steers slender fingers over the chapped surface of his lips, a prelude to the vanishing bittersweet contact for later. It's almost like a dance, graceful and ever-slow; a cacophony of movements defying gravity and time. No other laws are in order, save for the unspoken covenant for gold to remain fixated on her mouth.
I'm here, silently she says, and he does not hear the words, but rather, feels them. He shivers, for a reason he cannot defend or explain, and the quietest of smiles blooms into a rose-petal blush on her facade.
You are, he attempts to speak, and his inability to continue overwhelms him, triggering the scorching fire behind his eyes. Blows began to reverberate through his frame, the blood-seeking muscle within him constricting and bursting in split instants. Desperation crawled through him in search for the exact; was there even a way to express how she made him feel?
His coiled arms crush around her in heated, clutching embrace; keeping her to him for as long as anything allows him to. Surprise lights up the gray in her careful stare, and there is a rare tinge of mirth in her tone; If you're going to ask me to stay, you're too late, and his hold gingerly shatters, but regains bravado when she continues.
I would've done it anyway, and he knows, he knows, right then, that he loves her. It encompasses whys and hows and because; none of it matters, and he just does, so he thinks to show her as he claims what she had meant to give him.
Oh, a sighgasp escapes in her even voice, a kiss colliding with hers and the world, with all its rules and words and tomorrows, tries to seek its lost children as they hide away, misplaced somewhere in time.
♠ ♠ ♠
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