[Delicately, he takes her hand, like she is made of glass, revered. He brings her down to his lap, between his knees and his thighs. Her hand and arm is drawn over his shoulder; he tips his head forward in the curve of her neck.
The sound of her blood rolls in his ears. It's not wrong to say some others may find her disgusting. Her skin smells medicinal--he wonders if his own is like this, after so many years of experimentation--and hums with that same strangely metallic bite he could feel before.
He puts her fingers on the zipper (there is surprisingly a zipper...?) through the dark hair high at the back of his neck, but he doesn't force her to pull it down. His hand moves away, leaving hers there.]
You claimed you would make me heel, [he says, his voice a warm whisper on her throat.] Would you rather I resist?
[Is she going to say it would be better for her if he acts more feisty about all this?]
no subject
The sound of her blood rolls in his ears. It's not wrong to say some others may find her disgusting. Her skin smells medicinal--he wonders if his own is like this, after so many years of experimentation--and hums with that same strangely metallic bite he could feel before.
He puts her fingers on the zipper (there is surprisingly a zipper...?) through the dark hair high at the back of his neck, but he doesn't force her to pull it down. His hand moves away, leaving hers there.]
You claimed you would make me heel, [he says, his voice a warm whisper on her throat.] Would you rather I resist?
[Is she going to say it would be better for her if he acts more feisty about all this?]