As always
She is just there, as always. He doesn't like to think why, or when he started to like the way she walked – shoulders lax, her hips swaying. He doesn't remember when her half lidded eyes became so alluring either.
She is a demoness. Her enemies tremble just at the sound of her name. There is darkness inside her – an empty, hungry beast that is slowly devouring her sanity. He likes to think that he could heal that beast, feed it a little light. But he isn't so stupid as to believe that the beast would just leave – he has his own beast, after all, and things just don't work that way.
Her hair is midnight blue, curling at the ends and framing her waist. Her eyes are the clouded night skies – hiding secrets that are no mans to take. He likes the way she clenches her jaw when she looks at those who were stupid enough to doubt her, and the way she uses only her thumb to grind them into dirt.
It feels infuriating to have the feeling of her skin locked in his head, and wanting to touch it with desperation of a dying man. The way she sweetly rolls his name on her tongue, eyes heated, just to see him react.
She is fire, he is water. He could smother her with himself and leave her dying – but she would regenerate, and he would disappear.
He remembers that one time when she appeared on his doorstep all drunk, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dazed. It would have been so easy to touch her, to have her, but he didn't. He had let her sleep on his futon and took care of her like he would with his own child.
He sees her now – her red (always red) lips kissing his scars, as if forever mocking him for getting them in the first place. Her scent is clouding his mind, her hair tickling his collar bones. Her eyes possess him in ways no other can. She heals the wounds that throb painfully inside of him, she changes the way he thinks. No matter how much darkness she has inside her, she shows him that she has just as much love for life. She shows him that there is always as much kindness as there is hatred.
Her fingertips touch the sacred places of his heart, caressing, but threatening to hurt.
He doesn't care. She is just there, as always.
{A/N} Inspired by Tove Lo - Talking body (Sarah Close cover)
This pairing always seemed pretty interesting to me, and this is what was born out of that interest. Pretty short and vague, but i wanted to post something here - so here you have it.