At first, it seemed like a small and unimportant touch, his fingers trailing down my shoulder as I hold him loosely, his face pressed into the soft skin of my neck. I should think, that it is these times that I value the most. When his touches are kind, and without sexual intent. When his voice is a murmur of sweet nothings, and neither of our hearts ache from the cruel words that spew from my mouth more often than his.
I often times try to excuse my cruel actions by associating them with my past in some way or another, telling him, or who ever happens to be questioning me that I lack a soul, and was a king, and that I wasn't shown compassion growing up, and had nothing to reflect onto others. Sol, though he'll say he's stupid, is not a fool. He knows all these excuses by heart, and knows what complete bullshit they are. But still, as his ears choke down another dose of them each day, he doesn't bother to complain, or tell me how full of lies I am. I think that perhaps, because of the past he's had, I'm not the only person in our relationship that's done this.
Sol used to drink. A lot. And when he drank, he would become abusive. This isn't a conversational topic, and I doubt I would even know it if I hadn't done what I did the first time. I had forced him to submit to me, thinking all he needed was a little push, and he'd be mine instead of me his. I was wrong. He had vanished then, blatantly pissed, and after a ten years run, fell off the wagon. Just like that. And then I became the victim, beaten and broken. Once it was clear that I had returned to him, The Hatter had called me 'gotten.' And for a long time, I was stared at, called the Ace of Hearts' bitch.
He kisses my neck, tearing me out of my day dream, and I run my hand down to the small of his back fondly, exhaling a content sigh.
"Skye?" He murmurs in a soft, almost inaudible tone.
"Hm?" I reply quietly, used to his almost childish habit of needing to hear his own voice. Or perhaps it's just a terribly human need he has to constantly be listened to.
"You taste good." He returns, grinning lightly as he nips my neck, causing me to let out a light squeak in surprise. A year ago, I might have been angry at him for him causing me the embarrassment, but now, I just extended my neck as he pulled me into his lap, grinding up toward me in his intimidating, feral way. I shudder, giving a light gasp in return to the feeling, groaning as I shift away my clothes in firgun, knowing exactly what he wanted. He pulls away, his eyes eating the sight of me slowly, his dark lashes shading green eyes as he lets out a throaty sort of chirr in approval. It might only be morning, but for an energetic Star like him, I guess he's always looking for some form of exercise—Not that I really mind.
Still, I ask, "Do you ever tire?"
"You keep me awake." He mumbles in way that makes me question whether or not that was a form of flirtation or insult. Given the context, I'd easily place my bet on flirtation. I chuckle in a brief introspection of our redamancy. I would hate to say that it started with a crush, because I also like to believe that I'm not so much a fool as to crush on somebody. We'll say it started with a certain appetence, a need to be with one another, despite the fact that we were both in relationships when we first met.
He's handling my hips now as he lays me down, his fingers digging into old bruises and making new ones, his strong hands not fully accustomed to handling things as fragile as another's body. He spread my legs, and I complied happily, stretching as ran his hands down my thigh, closer and closer to my heat. And just like that, he pulled away, leaving me hungry for more.
I should be used to this, I think to myself. He loves to tease me, to lure me in until I come to him, begging for whatever he'll give me. "Sol." I moan, sounding weary of this routine.
"Tell me what you want." He purrs, eyeing me ravenously.
Again, we start this amaranthine cycle.