[ that isn't what this is, this wasn't some farewell fuck, some way of getting him out of her system. it was the opposite, it was meant to keep him closer, to remind him (and herself) that they are meant to do this, be this. to get him back in her system. the last thing she wants is to say goodbye. he could fuck a hundred people, fall in and out of love with person after person and no matter how much it hurt her, her heart still belongs to him, fragile and selfish as it might be.
her hand lifts to touch his cheek as he looks up at her and says those sheepish words, her lips quirking at the corners.]
I'll take it as a compliment-- [ she murmurs softly, leaning down to press her lips to his eyelashes first, kissing away the tears caught there, tasting the sorrow that put them there and aching at it. her lips finally do meet with his for a proper kiss as he beckons, an action interrupted by a sharp intake of breath when his thumb presses to that bundle of nerves, still pulsating and sensitive. one hand moves to bury itself into his hair, tugging his mouth closer to her own even though there's no way they could be closer short of devouring each other.
it's then that he strokes with bond, talons knocking at the walls she's put up and seeks the truth of how she's feeling. she balks at the idea of it for a moment, her head shaking in refusal, if only because she doesn't want to hurt him, especially now with his cheeks still wet, his eyes still shining with tears.
but she cannot refuse him, not when he's let her in so many times when he was feeling vulnerable, raw and exposed. exhausted, she releases a shaky breath, nodding as she lets the shields down, brick by invisible brick. her wings fade too, if only because she doesn't have the strength at that moment to do both.
she lets him see now. ugly, ugly, ugly the thoughts tell her, the things she feels are ugly. she lets him see the ache in her heart. the ugly: the betrayal she feels, the anger she feels that he buried his cock into someone else, the resentment that she was not involved in that decision. then the overwhelming fear of losing him, the idea that this girl might be something she isn't: not burdened by that heavy darkness, not broken or not a murderer.
the pathetic child who let her family walk all over her, forcing her into saving them because no one else would. a lonely girl so desperate for love and comfort that she tangled herself with someone who let her die for him. the shattered woman who became so undone that she couldn't fight her way out of a gilded cage and had to be saved.
i'm sorry. she presses a kiss to his lips then, a shameful tear rolling down her cheek.
she breaks off that piece of herself and hands it to him before she shows him the good. how despite the ache she feels, it's an ache that will heal with time, feyre knows that even now, even as it's raw and fresh.
it's only love after that. and everything that comes with it. the gratitude that she feels to have him, that he saved her, that he gives her the choice, that he loves her, that he has given parts of himself that no one will ever have and that he has made himself vulnerable after hundreds of years of keeping that part of himself in the dark. he is the night sky to hold her stars, that warm embrace she needs to stay aloft. rhys is the reason she can shine so brightly now. because she'd been so close to flickering out completely but he'd seen her, better than anyone else could. it's that love that she will not let go of, that she selfishly clings to and will fight and claw to keep.
and trust. it's there too. she trusts her heart in his hands, she trusts him with everything. this is not goodbye.]
no subject
her hand lifts to touch his cheek as he looks up at her and says those sheepish words, her lips quirking at the corners.]
I'll take it as a compliment-- [ she murmurs softly, leaning down to press her lips to his eyelashes first, kissing away the tears caught there, tasting the sorrow that put them there and aching at it. her lips finally do meet with his for a proper kiss as he beckons, an action interrupted by a sharp intake of breath when his thumb presses to that bundle of nerves, still pulsating and sensitive. one hand moves to bury itself into his hair, tugging his mouth closer to her own even though there's no way they could be closer short of devouring each other.
it's then that he strokes with bond, talons knocking at the walls she's put up and seeks the truth of how she's feeling. she balks at the idea of it for a moment, her head shaking in refusal, if only because she doesn't want to hurt him, especially now with his cheeks still wet, his eyes still shining with tears.
but she cannot refuse him, not when he's let her in so many times when he was feeling vulnerable, raw and exposed. exhausted, she releases a shaky breath, nodding as she lets the shields down, brick by invisible brick. her wings fade too, if only because she doesn't have the strength at that moment to do both.
she lets him see now. ugly, ugly, ugly the thoughts tell her, the things she feels are ugly. she lets him see the ache in her heart. the ugly: the betrayal she feels, the anger she feels that he buried his cock into someone else, the resentment that she was not involved in that decision. then the overwhelming fear of losing him, the idea that this girl might be something she isn't: not burdened by that heavy darkness, not broken or not a murderer.
the pathetic child who let her family walk all over her, forcing her into saving them because no one else would. a lonely girl so desperate for love and comfort that she tangled herself with someone who let her die for him. the shattered woman who became so undone that she couldn't fight her way out of a gilded cage and had to be saved.
i'm sorry. she presses a kiss to his lips then, a shameful tear rolling down her cheek.
she breaks off that piece of herself and hands it to him before she shows him the good. how despite the ache she feels, it's an ache that will heal with time, feyre knows that even now, even as it's raw and fresh.
it's only love after that. and everything that comes with it. the gratitude that she feels to have him, that he saved her, that he gives her the choice, that he loves her, that he has given parts of himself that no one will ever have and that he has made himself vulnerable after hundreds of years of keeping that part of himself in the dark. he is the night sky to hold her stars, that warm embrace she needs to stay aloft. rhys is the reason she can shine so brightly now. because she'd been so close to flickering out completely but he'd seen her, better than anyone else could. it's that love that she will not let go of, that she selfishly clings to and will fight and claw to keep.
and trust. it's there too. she trusts her heart in his hands, she trusts him with everything. this is not goodbye.]