Kiba x Cheza
Perfection
He stared at her, at the warmth in her eyes and the strength in her arms that were always open to him, to them all. He took in her body, lithe but obviously fragile, and the paleness of her skin, made even more bright by the glow of the moon.
He sighed, and lay his head on his paws.
No one had ever asked him, but had simply presumed it was her scent, that it was because of what she was, what she meant to the wolves and to him and to his heaven. But, he knew, it was something much more than that, although he was unable to put a name on what exactly it was.
It was more than lust, he was sure of that. There was lust, that was obvious, but he knew that these feelings went deeper, were more than that superficial want.
He knew that it was defiantly more than simple need. He did need her, and she needed him too, but it was something more than reliance and dependence, or at least he hoped it was.
It was part desperation, he thought. There was nothing like her in the world, and he knew he would never find anything like her again, and that made their time together all the more poignant, because both of them knew that they would not, feasibly could not, be together forever, and they could never find anything like each other again, and that made him all the more desperate to hold her, to feel her, to listen to her heartbeat and watch the emotions running through her eyes.
He was sure that it was part love. There was something about the way his breathing became restricted and his body filled with warmth that made it inexplicably obvious to him that it was.
He could not name it, could not define it.
The closest thing he could think of, the nearest word to what they shared, was perfection.