When the door shut, she got just that: Neil, on her like a shot, hands cradling her head as he pressed her back against the door so he could tip her face up and feast on her mouth, taking the chance the moment her lips parted to taste, to take, to claim with a subsonic snarl that could be less heard and more felt, vibrating deep in his chest.
He had no comparison for this. None. He'd known need in his life, indulged the physical and compartmentalized all else, but this woman tangled everything for him. The most gifted of courtesans couldn't play his body the way she did, and not even the most cunning of royals could match her for wit, elegance, or beauty--and they sure as hell couldn't bring him to his knees the way she did with blood and violence, two things that stalked him in every corner of his life.
She didn't just give it to him: those sinful bites and scratches that branded his body when she came for him, she gifted him every single one. She knew, as few ever had, what he needed so he could be free to want and to feel.
And he wanted every mark she left on him, to belong to her as much as she would allow. He wanted those playful scratches of nails over clothing in public, made to tease but also serving to remind him that she understood what he was, and that she enjoyed it. She turned him into a starving animal, every goddamn time she touched him in even the gentlest of moments, and she didn't judge him for the depth of his need, she fucking reveled in it.
Breaking the kiss, Neil pressed his forehead against hers, fighting a losing battle with catching his breath or calming his racing heart.
"Tell me now if you're fond of anything you're wearing, 'cause if it's standing between me and your body, it dies." he growled, his hands already sliding down to rest on her hips, to start hitching her skirt up higher, fisting in the fabric as if preparing to rip it clean in half to get her naked faster.
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timeasmymeasure
Re: 8/31 - early evening - Private
Date: 2018-09-16 05:57 am (UTC)He had no comparison for this. None. He'd known need in his life, indulged the physical and compartmentalized all else, but this woman tangled everything for him. The most gifted of courtesans couldn't play his body the way she did, and not even the most cunning of royals could match her for wit, elegance, or beauty--and they sure as hell couldn't bring him to his knees the way she did with blood and violence, two things that stalked him in every corner of his life.
She didn't just give it to him: those sinful bites and scratches that branded his body when she came for him, she gifted him every single one. She knew, as few ever had, what he needed so he could be free to want and to feel.
And he wanted every mark she left on him, to belong to her as much as she would allow. He wanted those playful scratches of nails over clothing in public, made to tease but also serving to remind him that she understood what he was, and that she enjoyed it. She turned him into a starving animal, every goddamn time she touched him in even the gentlest of moments, and she didn't judge him for the depth of his need, she fucking reveled in it.
Breaking the kiss, Neil pressed his forehead against hers, fighting a losing battle with catching his breath or calming his racing heart.
"Tell me now if you're fond of anything you're wearing, 'cause if it's standing between me and your body, it dies." he growled, his hands already sliding down to rest on her hips, to start hitching her skirt up higher, fisting in the fabric as if preparing to rip it clean in half to get her naked faster.