[His lips quirk into another faint smile at her assessment.]
In this instance, I'll gladly take 'odd' as a compliment.
[It was clearly meant that way, even before she'd gone on to clarify— but she's quite right about the rest of it, as well. They don't have the luxury to question what is and isn't right in this situation; they're well past any point where doing so might serve them. The most that can be done is for him to respect her wishes in addition to her agency, and to be good to his word.
He nods in agreement, reaching out to gently take her wrist in hand, turning it upwards as he meets her gaze again, solemn. She's made her wants clear, and meeting them is the absolute least he can do. Protecting her was not something he had ever intended to approach half-heartedly.]
I promise you, Amelia. You will be safe with me.
[Though he does not have Cazador's infamy, he has long been more than he seems. He knows he can give her this, even if it is hardly a simple matter to do so.
Stalling further will not serve either of them. True to his word, he bows his head as he lifts her wrist to meet him halfway; he'd been able to hear her heartbeat even before he'd set foot in the room, but it was fast approaching thundering now that they were close, now that he was no longer making an effort to tune out his senses, his hunger.
The scent of her is stronger than the one she leaves behind on his sheets, and he cannot help but feel the thrill of anticipation as his lips lightly brush against her pulse point. Gently, he gives her wrist a squeeze of warning before his fangs lightly pierce the skin, and suddenly he can feel her very heartbeat in his mouth as hot, rich blood begins to well up beneath the surface of the bite, slow at first, but the moment it touches his tongue, he is reminded of precisely why he had chosen years ago not to share this with strangers any longer.]
[What was it like to be bitten by a vampire? When she was younger she asked a more senior witch who had seen much of the world.
"It's a dangerously pleasant thing. Your fight or flight response will only activate for a moment."
(The predator with no pulse has taken hold of her and her back straightens with caution. When his lips brush against the pulse point of her wrist the vividness of her life contrasts against the undead existence. She doesn't look away, but she almost flinches when the fangs appear. It's her final warning.
When her skin is pierced, there's an instinctive and fearful tug. But it's too late.)
"It doesn't hurt, not really. Depends on how gentle the vampire chooses to be and if you have a death wish."
(It's like getting a shot, or drawing blood with a needle. Amelia lets out a short huff of breath, trying to concentrate on a spot on her lap instead of him. The warmth of her blood emerges and morbid curiosity wins out and she glances up right as it flows into his mouth. Her heart seizes and thumps harder against her chest.)
"Being bitten certainly does something to you... It's hypnotic."
(She controls her breathing. This is nothing. It's just a taste.)
"I'll say no more than that. There's no need. You're not some fool who want to be eaten so it doesn't matter."
"You're not a fool, right Amelia?"
This evening, Amelia Steinbeck is the biggest fool for letting herself be vulnerable prey. And before she can stop herself, she murmurs:]
[His gaze flicks upwards for a moment; her voice is low, but her words are clear.
"You can have a little more."
He had fed enough earlier in the evening that there would be no need to make a true meal of her, that this exchange would be more ritual than feast, but her offer of permission still excites something in him that he cannot deny, thirst awakened by the first taste of fresh blood he's had in longer than he can recall— but it is not just thirst that he feels threatening him, pulling him in deeper.
He presses her wrist to him more firmly, his efforts still careful, but his tongue flicks against those puncture wounds that remain hidden away beneath his lips, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste as her blood flows more freely, hot against his throat. His eyelids lower as he drinks, listening for her pulse even as he feels it against his tongue, and though it remains strong, he swallows hard as he forces himself to pull off of her several moments later, his face now flushed, eyes dark and pupils blown.]
I should— I should stop.
[Even as he murmurs the words, he softly runs his tongue over the newly exposed wound to leave the puncture marks clean, followed by an apologetic swipe of his thumb as a basic healing spell takes out any sting that might remain.]
[There's something about seeing the normally composed and introverted Gale displaying a part of his true vampiric nature that should't fascinate the witch, but does. She can't look away except for when his tongue flicks against her wounds and she barely suppresses the noise that was about to escape her throat. With pursed lips she glances to the side, her face flushed and tugging at her collar. Why is it so hot all of a sudden?
He doesn't have a pulse, but the awakened thirst resonates with her heartbeat and it's a sensation that floods her better judgement, tricking her into believing that this was a good thing, a delicious feeling, that lowers her defenses and puts her in danger of being drained dry and teases her with sweet oblivion.
(Is that all there is to it? She barely touched anyone after Adam and even so not like this.)
"I should stop."
His voice interrupts her dubious reverie and she turns just in time to see him lick the punctures clean and apply a small spell. There's a huff of breath and she recklessly replies to him.]
Do you really want to stop?
[Dangerous.
She knows better than this, she's sensible, she's not that reckless— and yet she impatiently pulls at her exposed wrist and inadvertently drawing nearer to him.]
You look... [There's a sharp intake of breath as she attempts to collect herself.]
[Focused. That was certainly one word for how he currently felt; hungry was another, but not necessarily for blood. Physically, that particular need had been sated, though there was no denying that after so long without feeding from a living person, the temptation to overindulge was very, very real.
Not just any living person, of course. He is lucid enough still to realize that he would not feel as intensely as he does now had he been feeding from a complete stranger.
He swallows again; his mouth feels deceptively dry despite having just fed, and he gives a small shake of his head in response to her dangerous challenge. No. Tempted as he is, it's too dangerous to let himself feed from her further; she was hardly in danger from the amount he had taken already, but if given the chance to drown in that heady sensation... it is too great a risk.]
You only have so much blood to give. I promised— you would be safe with me.
[His words are measured, chosen carefully despite the feeling of being half-drunk, his resistance to her being tested all the while as she draws closer to him. It is too much to bear— and so at last he does what he has wanted to for weeks, an arm curling around her waist as he leans in to seal his mouth over hers, his lips newly warmed from having fed and taken on fresh blood, an entirely different kind of hunger threatening to make his heart beat.]
However, her senses are addled by the prick of his fangs, the lapping of his tongue, and the allure of both the man and monster with whom she has willingly closed the distance with. Something has awakened in her too; would it have happened if it was with just anyone who wanted to feast on her?
The dormant desires and yearning that she thought were long gone wouldn't have bloomed like this if she had been bitten by a complete stranger.
Before she can reply, his lips overlap with hers, warmed by her blood and she is effectively silenced. Her eyes widen; at first her body tenses up, uncertain and taken by surprise as his arm wraps around her waist. A part of her wonders if his words beforehand were meant to placate her, but somehow it dawns on her that she's mistaken.
It isn't kissing to seduce prey and further weaken her defenses; there's an unbearable melancholy behind it and it could only have come from a creature not starving for blood, but for the touch of another, of someone who just happened to be just as forlorn as her.
Her heartbeat slows down and aches. Though she doesn't part her lips, doesn't allow it to move further, she doesn't pull away. The kiss is gently returned, clumsily at first before becoming soft, if measured. The unbitten hand moves to cup one side of his face while internal rationality takes a backseat to being completely present with him in the night.]
[There is a yearning in the desperate press of his lips that has nothing to do with a need to feed; he feels her gently return the kiss without yielding, and his own remains persistent without pushing for more than she is willing to give. Her touch nearly burns against him; it has been so long since he has allowed or welcomed the touch of another, and he finds himself aching for more of it, more of something he feels he has no right to ask her for.
He threads careful fingers through her short hair, red tresses passing between them like silk; there is nothing in his bearing that speaks to the predator he knows he's meant to be, despite the fact that he had been feeding from her mere moments before. He craves her in a different way entirely, his lips parting slightly against hers to seek more, even as the faint taste of copper remains on them.]
[A soft noise escapes her throat as he parts his lips and when she parts her own, she startlingly tastes her own blood at the tip of her tongue. Whatever lines she thought she had firmly drawn in the ground have been swept away as his fingers entwine through her hair and she feels herself submerged in the simmering heat between them.
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Both of them should have been indifferent towards one another and this should have been a neutral, if beneficial partnership. Hell, she wasn’t even planning to stay that long in Baldur’s Gate to begin with. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else who could bring her down to earth and make her want to stay.
And that’s why, even though she deepens their kiss and tastes his tongue gently, she draws back, her forehead resting against his.]
Hey.
[]Her voice is a murmur as she strokes his face with her hand.]
[He exhales his answer almost immediately and without thought, turning his head as though to close the distance for another kiss, but he catches himself and pauses midway when he truly hears her question, fully processes it.
He stills, though he does not withdraw his touch, his fingers remaining woven into her hair, his arm still loosely curled about her waist. His eyelids slide closed as she gently strokes the side of his face, pulling him into the present moment, offering him clarity even as the fever of wanting still burns bright within him.]
... no. I— apologize.
[It isn't the truth, and it even sounds hollow to him as he says it. He's wanted to kiss her for quite some time now, unable to keep his mind from wandering when he drifts off to sleep with the scent of her still on his pillow— but any hope of being able to have something with her that was fair and equal had been smothered to death before it could even begin to bloom, given their situation.
His fingers curl tightly into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back before he relaxes them and lets his hand fall away, even as their brows remain pressed together.]
[It had, somehow, escaped his lips before he'd had the opportunity to give it due thought, and yet he doesn't feel anywhere near as embarrassed as he might have thought, even as he drags a hand over his face and lets out a self-deprecating sort of laugh, exhaling.
He's not in his right mind. It doesn't make what he had said untrue, but this might not have been how he would have chosen to say it otherwise.]
It's— all that blood. Gone quite to my head, I'm afraid.
[Never mind that he hadn't taken that much, in the grand scheme of things. He had been quite careful not to.]
I did warn you the experience was— intense.
[He agrees with her choice of word, even if he's subtly trying to shift its focus elsewhere.]
[Something about that statement makes her suddenly lift up her head and her brows scrunched in something that looks akin to disapproval or disappointment.]
Just the blood?
[And maybe she's still immature despite her years and thinking there was more to what he did. But if it was just the blood that made him act out...?
Well. There was no sense of playing around and setting unrealistic expectations. If Gale is going to deny things, Amelia isn't going to take risks either. She already spent several years pursuing another only for that to end up in heartbreak by no fault of her own or Adam's.
(She'll ignore the voice that says this would be different).]
Right. Well, with all that said and done—
[Thus she pulls herself away and quite abruptly stands up, straightening her sweater. There is notably no eye contact.]
I'm taking a shower and going to bed. It's very late for me.
[She doesn't have a chance to walk away before his hand closes around her wrist, halting any progress, even as she avoids meeting his gaze.]
You misunderstand me.
[His tone is measured, even; he does not fumble in his efforts to correct himself, and there's something in his voice that feels just on the very edge of dangerous, something inherent in him that he often went out of his way to disguise. Just now, he doesn't feel the need.]
I didn't kiss you because of the blood— but I might have done it differently had my mind not been clouded.
[There is a weight to his words as his hold on her remains solid, though he does not pull her back towards him— not yet.]
[The rose tattoo on her chest stirs beneath her skin as his hand wraps around her wrist and stopping her from leaving. Her brows scrunch together at the tone of his voice; it isn't totally commanding, but Gale isn't being entirely genial either.]
"Differently."
[The word repeated back at him with irreverence. Her fingers wiggle beneath his grasp in contemplation over her next few words.]
[He might argue that he still does not feel he has the right, yet it matters so much less than it had seemed to only an hour earlier; now they were close and she was leaning over him while her scent flooded his senses, her blood having sent fresh heat running through his veins.
It's tempting, so tempting, to use his hold on her wrist to pull her down just a bit further and pull her into another kiss without answering, but instead he meets her gaze with his own, dark and heated. He remains drawn to her beyond reasoning; even as he resists one temptation, his hands come to rest at her waist, one sliding to the small of her back as he tips his chin up to meet her challenge.]
[Amelia's not certain about the why of it all. Maybe it's sympathy. Perhaps him bringing attention to the tension between them made it harder for her to brush it off or treat it casually especially with everything else about their situation being the complete opposite.
She hadn't wanted to share her future with anyone else.
But even so, the present, in the form of the vampire who desired her in so many unknown ways, burns so brightly in front of her.
And to be fair, he did ask.]
Hm.
[She leans down, angling her head so that there's barely an inch between their faces. When she replies, her murmur dances across his lips.]
[Permission has barely been given before he leans in to close the narrow distance between them; it was the space of a single breath, her words already rolling across his lips and drawing him in closer, but he curls his fingers against the back of her neck and parts his lips beneath hers as he curls his arm around her waist and pulls her into his lap.
Even with the warmth he's gained from feeding, she feels warmer still against him, a fire he finds himself drawn to as a moth to flame. He has always considered himself to be reasonable, rational, certain he would never again allow himself to be so swept up in his emotions that he lost sight of himself— but perhaps all it took was the right person for him to forget that resolve.]
[The instant she's pulled into his lap, she understands deep down this is another path where there's no turning back. She sighs into his parted lips and kisses him back, tasting him slowly with her teasing tongue, and her heart thudding against her chest.. There's an intriguing warmth to him now unlike before; it's from her she realizes, but that's hardly a detail worth dwelling on in this especially resplendent moment.
Amelia is impulsive and reckless, a witch who may not live into the next century if she keeps making these kinds of choices on the fly.
But she moans deliciously into his mouth and her hands move to his face anyway; she straddles his lap so she can remain steady and leverage herself on the bed. Life was short, but even then five years felt so long since the witch allowed herself any feverish sensations.]
[A soft groan escapes into her mouth as she teases him with her tongue, and he gently prods to taste her in turn— this, this is far more intoxicating than even the rich heat of her blood had been, her weight against him serving as proof that this is quite real, not a dream brought on by falling asleep as her scent clung to his pillow and sheets.
That she meets him with such enthusiasm only serves to make him want to drink deeper, swallow down that delicious moan; he threads deft fingers through her hair as he deepens the kiss between them, his hand at her back sliding downwards to tug her flush against him. It's been years since he's allowed anyone to come this close to him, more than just physically, and he could lose himself in sensation all too easily, drown in her if she let him.
Fingers curl against the back of her head; he has no need to break for breath, but lets himself drop back against the mattress, guiding her along with him, feeling the fever burn through the both of them, his bite having formed a link between them, however temporary it may be.]
[He doesn't need to breathe, but she does. She continues to kiss him until he drops back against the mattress which startles her slightly. Her hands move to his shoulders so that she can draw back a few inches. Her breathing is heavy and same with her gaze.]
Gale...
[It's getting too hot. She feels as if she's inhaled her usual concoction of aromatic smoke, but instead of calming her down, she's even more worked up.
(She can't keep this going. Not with all her other thoughts and memories in the back of her mind.)
Swallowing, Amelia closes her eyes and presses her forehead against the vampire's as a small reassurance.]
You know I still need oxygen, right?
[Levity. Yes, she needs to bring it back before she goes too far.]
[Levity is what the moment needs. He's startled for a moment, then lets out a soft, raw-edged laugh in response, his eyes sliding closed as he exhales, his hold on the back of her shirt relaxing so that he can move his hand to rest against her hip.]
I hadn't given it much thought.
[Levity in turn, even if it's more true than not. The press of her forehead against his own tells him that he has not erred quite so badly as he might have, but her gentle interruption does help him to regain some lucidity.]
[Amelia lets out a sigh of disbelief as she draws back and moves so that she's just laying her head against his chest which also serves to avoid looking at him in the eyes.]
That's an understatement.
[She reaches up to muss up his hair as if to get back at him.]
[He's reluctant to let her go, even though she doesn't go far. He turns his gaze to the ceiling as she lays her head against his chest, idly taking the ends of a few locks of brilliant red between his fingers. Her mussing of his hair causes a smile to tug at one corner of his mouth, however briefly.]
No, I suppose it wasn't, though I suspect others have made the assumption.
[Typically, it's what an arrangement like theirs would often imply, but—
He's not so concerned with what other people think at the moment.]
I don't usually... lose control of myself in such a way.
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sunfloras2024-05-18 10:26 pm
no subject
In this instance, I'll gladly take 'odd' as a compliment.
[It was clearly meant that way, even before she'd gone on to clarify— but she's quite right about the rest of it, as well. They don't have the luxury to question what is and isn't right in this situation; they're well past any point where doing so might serve them. The most that can be done is for him to respect her wishes in addition to her agency, and to be good to his word.
He nods in agreement, reaching out to gently take her wrist in hand, turning it upwards as he meets her gaze again, solemn. She's made her wants clear, and meeting them is the absolute least he can do. Protecting her was not something he had ever intended to approach half-heartedly.]
I promise you, Amelia. You will be safe with me.
[Though he does not have Cazador's infamy, he has long been more than he seems. He knows he can give her this, even if it is hardly a simple matter to do so.
Stalling further will not serve either of them. True to his word, he bows his head as he lifts her wrist to meet him halfway; he'd been able to hear her heartbeat even before he'd set foot in the room, but it was fast approaching thundering now that they were close, now that he was no longer making an effort to tune out his senses, his hunger.
The scent of her is stronger than the one she leaves behind on his sheets, and he cannot help but feel the thrill of anticipation as his lips lightly brush against her pulse point. Gently, he gives her wrist a squeeze of warning before his fangs lightly pierce the skin, and suddenly he can feel her very heartbeat in his mouth as hot, rich blood begins to well up beneath the surface of the bite, slow at first, but the moment it touches his tongue, he is reminded of precisely why he had chosen years ago not to share this with strangers any longer.]
no subject
"It's a dangerously pleasant thing. Your fight or flight response will only activate for a moment."
(The predator with no pulse has taken hold of her and her back straightens with caution. When his lips brush against the pulse point of her wrist the vividness of her life contrasts against the undead existence. She doesn't look away, but she almost flinches when the fangs appear. It's her final warning.
When her skin is pierced, there's an instinctive and fearful tug. But it's too late.)
"It doesn't hurt, not really. Depends on how gentle the vampire chooses to be and if you have a death wish."
(It's like getting a shot, or drawing blood with a needle. Amelia lets out a short huff of breath, trying to concentrate on a spot on her lap instead of him. The warmth of her blood emerges and morbid curiosity wins out and she glances up right as it flows into his mouth. Her heart seizes and thumps harder against her chest.)
"Being bitten certainly does something to you... It's hypnotic."
(She controls her breathing. This is nothing. It's just a taste.)
"I'll say no more than that. There's no need. You're not some fool who want to be eaten so it doesn't matter."
This evening, Amelia Steinbeck is the biggest fool for letting herself be vulnerable prey. And before she can stop herself, she murmurs:]
... You can have a little more.
no subject
"You can have a little more."
He had fed enough earlier in the evening that there would be no need to make a true meal of her, that this exchange would be more ritual than feast, but her offer of permission still excites something in him that he cannot deny, thirst awakened by the first taste of fresh blood he's had in longer than he can recall— but it is not just thirst that he feels threatening him, pulling him in deeper.
He presses her wrist to him more firmly, his efforts still careful, but his tongue flicks against those puncture wounds that remain hidden away beneath his lips, unwilling to let a single drop go to waste as her blood flows more freely, hot against his throat. His eyelids lower as he drinks, listening for her pulse even as he feels it against his tongue, and though it remains strong, he swallows hard as he forces himself to pull off of her several moments later, his face now flushed, eyes dark and pupils blown.]
I should— I should stop.
[Even as he murmurs the words, he softly runs his tongue over the newly exposed wound to leave the puncture marks clean, followed by an apologetic swipe of his thumb as a basic healing spell takes out any sting that might remain.]
no subject
He doesn't have a pulse, but the awakened thirst resonates with her heartbeat and it's a sensation that floods her better judgement, tricking her into believing that this was a good thing, a delicious feeling, that lowers her defenses and puts her in danger of being drained dry and teases her with sweet oblivion.
(Is that all there is to it? She barely touched anyone after Adam and even so not like this.)
"I should stop."
His voice interrupts her dubious reverie and she turns just in time to see him lick the punctures clean and apply a small spell. There's a huff of breath and she recklessly replies to him.]
Do you really want to stop?
[Dangerous.
She knows better than this, she's sensible, she's not that reckless— and yet she impatiently pulls at her exposed wrist and inadvertently drawing nearer to him.]
You look... [There's a sharp intake of breath as she attempts to collect herself.]
... Focused.
no subject
Not just any living person, of course. He is lucid enough still to realize that he would not feel as intensely as he does now had he been feeding from a complete stranger.
He swallows again; his mouth feels deceptively dry despite having just fed, and he gives a small shake of his head in response to her dangerous challenge. No. Tempted as he is, it's too dangerous to let himself feed from her further; she was hardly in danger from the amount he had taken already, but if given the chance to drown in that heady sensation... it is too great a risk.]
You only have so much blood to give. I promised— you would be safe with me.
[His words are measured, chosen carefully despite the feeling of being half-drunk, his resistance to her being tested all the while as she draws closer to him. It is too much to bear— and so at last he does what he has wanted to for weeks, an arm curling around her waist as he leans in to seal his mouth over hers, his lips newly warmed from having fed and taken on fresh blood, an entirely different kind of hunger threatening to make his heart beat.]
no subject
However, her senses are addled by the prick of his fangs, the lapping of his tongue, and the allure of both the man and monster with whom she has willingly closed the distance with. Something has awakened in her too; would it have happened if it was with just anyone who wanted to feast on her?
The dormant desires and yearning that she thought were long gone wouldn't have bloomed like this if she had been bitten by a complete stranger.
Before she can reply, his lips overlap with hers, warmed by her blood and she is effectively silenced. Her eyes widen; at first her body tenses up, uncertain and taken by surprise as his arm wraps around her waist. A part of her wonders if his words beforehand were meant to placate her, but somehow it dawns on her that she's mistaken.
It isn't kissing to seduce prey and further weaken her defenses; there's an unbearable melancholy behind it and it could only have come from a creature not starving for blood, but for the touch of another, of someone who just happened to be just as forlorn as her.
Her heartbeat slows down and aches. Though she doesn't part her lips, doesn't allow it to move further, she doesn't pull away. The kiss is gently returned, clumsily at first before becoming soft, if measured. The unbitten hand moves to cup one side of his face while internal rationality takes a backseat to being completely present with him in the night.]
no subject
He threads careful fingers through her short hair, red tresses passing between them like silk; there is nothing in his bearing that speaks to the predator he knows he's meant to be, despite the fact that he had been feeding from her mere moments before. He craves her in a different way entirely, his lips parting slightly against hers to seek more, even as the faint taste of copper remains on them.]
no subject
It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Both of them should have been indifferent towards one another and this should have been a neutral, if beneficial partnership. Hell, she wasn’t even planning to stay that long in Baldur’s Gate to begin with. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else who could bring her down to earth and make her want to stay.
And that’s why, even though she deepens their kiss and tastes his tongue gently, she draws back, her forehead resting against his.]
Hey.
[]Her voice is a murmur as she strokes his face with her hand.]
Is this where we want to be?
no subject
[He exhales his answer almost immediately and without thought, turning his head as though to close the distance for another kiss, but he catches himself and pauses midway when he truly hears her question, fully processes it.
He stills, though he does not withdraw his touch, his fingers remaining woven into her hair, his arm still loosely curled about her waist. His eyelids slide closed as she gently strokes the side of his face, pulling him into the present moment, offering him clarity even as the fever of wanting still burns bright within him.]
... no. I— apologize.
[It isn't the truth, and it even sounds hollow to him as he says it. He's wanted to kiss her for quite some time now, unable to keep his mind from wandering when he drifts off to sleep with the scent of her still on his pillow— but any hope of being able to have something with her that was fair and equal had been smothered to death before it could even begin to bloom, given their situation.
His fingers curl tightly into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back before he relaxes them and lets his hand fall away, even as their brows remain pressed together.]
You have come to occupy my every waking thought.
kicks life and brain in the butt
[That last declaration makes Amelia blink rapidly and her cheeks to redden in rapid succession.]
Ah.
[She ducks her head, uncertain of how to reply because any thing she could say doesn't sound correct in her head.]
That's... Intense.
[Like that for instance. She lets both of her hands drop though she doesn't pull away. Next, the witch makes an attempt at levity.]
I mean, that wouldn't be the first time I've had that affect—
joins you in the kicking!
He's not in his right mind. It doesn't make what he had said untrue, but this might not have been how he would have chosen to say it otherwise.]
It's— all that blood. Gone quite to my head, I'm afraid.
[Never mind that he hadn't taken that much, in the grand scheme of things. He had been quite careful not to.]
I did warn you the experience was— intense.
[He agrees with her choice of word, even if he's subtly trying to shift its focus elsewhere.]
we're that jojo kicking meme now
Just the blood?
[And maybe she's still immature despite her years and thinking there was more to what he did. But if it was just the blood that made him act out...?
Well. There was no sense of playing around and setting unrealistic expectations. If Gale is going to deny things, Amelia isn't going to take risks either. She already spent several years pursuing another only for that to end up in heartbreak by no fault of her own or Adam's.
(She'll ignore the voice that says this would be different).]
Right. Well, with all that said and done—
[Thus she pulls herself away and quite abruptly stands up, straightening her sweater. There is notably no eye contact.]
I'm taking a shower and going to bed. It's very late for me.
no subject
You misunderstand me.
[His tone is measured, even; he does not fumble in his efforts to correct himself, and there's something in his voice that feels just on the very edge of dangerous, something inherent in him that he often went out of his way to disguise. Just now, he doesn't feel the need.]
I didn't kiss you because of the blood— but I might have done it differently had my mind not been clouded.
[There is a weight to his words as his hold on her remains solid, though he does not pull her back towards him— not yet.]
no subject
"Differently."
[The word repeated back at him with irreverence. Her fingers wiggle beneath his grasp in contemplation over her next few words.]
That's a loaded word Gale.
[She's still not looking at him.]
It sounds like you want something else from me.
no subject
Differently. I might have asked first, for one.
[Before now, she had seen him behave cautiously, been something akin to shy in response to her flirtations. Tonight, shyness has left him entirely.]
Yet I did not feel I had the right to ask for what I want from you.
no subject
Finally she turns around, expression inscrutable, but wielding a piercing green-eyed gaze.]
And now you do? That's rich.
[What she does next without a change in her expression, is to lift one leg and rest her knee on the bed next to Gale.]
Well?
[She tilts her head.]
Ask again.
no subject
It's tempting, so tempting, to use his hold on her wrist to pull her down just a bit further and pull her into another kiss without answering, but instead he meets her gaze with his own, dark and heated. He remains drawn to her beyond reasoning; even as he resists one temptation, his hands come to rest at her waist, one sliding to the small of her back as he tips his chin up to meet her challenge.]
May I kiss you?
no subject
She hadn't wanted to share her future with anyone else.
But even so, the present, in the form of the vampire who desired her in so many unknown ways, burns so brightly in front of her.
And to be fair, he did ask.]
Hm.
[She leans down, angling her head so that there's barely an inch between their faces. When she replies, her murmur dances across his lips.]
You may.
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Even with the warmth he's gained from feeding, she feels warmer still against him, a fire he finds himself drawn to as a moth to flame. He has always considered himself to be reasonable, rational, certain he would never again allow himself to be so swept up in his emotions that he lost sight of himself— but perhaps all it took was the right person for him to forget that resolve.]
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Amelia is impulsive and reckless, a witch who may not live into the next century if she keeps making these kinds of choices on the fly.
But she moans deliciously into his mouth and her hands move to his face anyway; she straddles his lap so she can remain steady and leverage herself on the bed. Life was short, but even then five years felt so long since the witch allowed herself any feverish sensations.]
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That she meets him with such enthusiasm only serves to make him want to drink deeper, swallow down that delicious moan; he threads deft fingers through her hair as he deepens the kiss between them, his hand at her back sliding downwards to tug her flush against him. It's been years since he's allowed anyone to come this close to him, more than just physically, and he could lose himself in sensation all too easily, drown in her if she let him.
Fingers curl against the back of her head; he has no need to break for breath, but lets himself drop back against the mattress, guiding her along with him, feeling the fever burn through the both of them, his bite having formed a link between them, however temporary it may be.]
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Gale...
[It's getting too hot. She feels as if she's inhaled her usual concoction of aromatic smoke, but instead of calming her down, she's even more worked up.
(She can't keep this going. Not with all her other thoughts and memories in the back of her mind.)
Swallowing, Amelia closes her eyes and presses her forehead against the vampire's as a small reassurance.]
You know I still need oxygen, right?
[Levity. Yes, she needs to bring it back before she goes too far.]
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I hadn't given it much thought.
[Levity in turn, even if it's more true than not. The press of her forehead against his own tells him that he has not erred quite so badly as he might have, but her gentle interruption does help him to regain some lucidity.]
Is it too much?
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[Amelia lets out a sigh of disbelief as she draws back and moves so that she's just laying her head against his chest which also serves to avoid looking at him in the eyes.]
That's an understatement.
[She reaches up to muss up his hair as if to get back at him.]
That wasn't in our initial plan was it?
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No, I suppose it wasn't, though I suspect others have made the assumption.
[Typically, it's what an arrangement like theirs would often imply, but—
He's not so concerned with what other people think at the moment.]
I don't usually... lose control of myself in such a way.
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