Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.
Arkarian
"She had an arrow in her heart, Arkarian!" Isabel cries. I clasp her hands with mine to stop them from shaking, but she breaks free, standing up. I straighten myself and pull her into my arms. The top of her head barely reaches my collarbone; her tears create two wet spots on my chest. "I don't want this," she whispers. "I don't want this skill. I don't want these visions!"
"Isabel..."
"I don't want to see people die." I don't want to see you die.
Her thought leaves me speechless, and I embrace her more tightly. Her short nails dig into my back as she attempts to bring us even closer. A tear rolls down a blue eyelash and disappears in her flaxen hair. I bury my face in it, breathing in her scent – herbal shampoo and baby powder. She groans, sniffing, and rises to her tiptoes, leaning her wet face against mine. I give her a light kiss which she returns, biting my lower lip, forcing my mouth open. Her tongue glides in, dancing against my teeth and the sensitive pink flesh, provoking my tongue to reciprocate. She tastes like salt and mint toothpaste. I pick her up – easily, as she is incredibly light - and she wraps her legs around me. It is getting too intense too quick; her convulsive thoughts all center on the tumescent shaft pushing against her loose track pants. Before I can get any harder, I grab her waist and rip my body from her grip, setting her down. She looks at me with glazed, unfocused eyes and breathlessly reaches for my waistband. Cold sweaty fingers connect with warm sweaty skin. I don't want her to stop, but I remove her hand nonetheless.
Her face contorts into an angry red grimace. I open my mouth to pacify her, tell her why we cannot do this, but I don't know what to say. That she's too young? I come from an era where the only virginal girls upwards of the age of thirteen were found in convents. She's not ready? She is; the only hesitation comes from her insecurity, the idea that her inexperience will somehow embarrass her. She's too upset and that is causing her to rashly do something she normally wouldn't? This is ludicrous. She knows her feelings better than I do. Maybe the problem is me. I am afraid of hurting her, but she wants this, so how can abstinence possibly protect her?
I reach out, caressing her flushed, moist face. She kisses the base of my thumb.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" I ask. Kissing my palm again, she nods.