Gotta stop holding me the way you do
12-01-2016, 01:59 AM
She turned and sat back on her haunches, but he still didn't look up at her face. He stood there, waiting for some sort of questioning or accusing for why he had been the way he was with her. Not that he had any answers for her anyway. None of them came though. Instead, the silence just stretched on. He finally forced himself to pull up his gaze, his ruby stare meeting her indifferent expression. There was no way that indifference went all the way through. He knew her too well. These were her walls. This was her putting a barrier between herself and his shit. He wanted to grab her and shake her, force that look of her face and break her out of this prim and proper stance she had sat herself in. He wanted to feel some sort of relief or release after what he did, but all he felt was shame and exhaustion. Not physical exhaustion, but emotionally. "What am I to you?" he asked softly, his expression showing how utterly tired he felt. "Am I just someone to clean up after your mess? Someone to fuck when you need it? What am I?" He surprised himself with how even his tone was, but the emotion was still there. She had his soul. There was no leaving her now. If this was the fate he had been given to just be her outlet for her lust then he at least wanted to know it so he could start accepting it. He wanted to sit back like she had, but he couldn't do it. It was taking all his self control not to pace or let his claws rip apart the grass just to have an outlet for his emotions. I stand a hundred feet, but I fall when I'm around you. "SPEAK" |