Their first kiss tasted like ashes. And the taste she usually associated with not washing out her mouth with mint and myrrh. He didn't taste like chocolate or fruit or anything exotic like the girls in her village tittered about.

Her breath didn't leave her, her heart didn't flutter and the only thing she was aware of was the spittle swirling between their idly moving tongues. It was nothing like her visions of gallant young watertribe boys that would present her with elegantly carved necklaces and the largest finest pellets to her father because they wanted her and no one else would suffice.

It wasn't anything like anything she'd ever dreamed, in fact. It couldn't come close to her many fantasies of princes and ladies and everything girly she was afraid to admit she thought. It was that kiss that finally snuffed out all her childhood hopes and dreams. He wasn't gallant, charming, nice or anything remotely princely.

The hard meshing of lips was bruising and uncomfortable. Her teeth scraped against his again and he bit her lip harshly. Spit and blood dribbled out of the corner of their conjoined mouths.

It lacked finesse she thought as his body tightened around hers in effort to fit together. His fingers were digging into her neck and nails drawing more blood. It wasn't a kiss of lust or experience or anything remotely passionate. It lacked love she thought, then had to pull away sharply to let out a self deprecating laugh.

Even if she was kissing a prince that wasn't, love had nothing to do with it. Neither did lust or even like.

There hadn't been any of that there before at least. Nothing but hatred, anger, jealousy and finally understanding, there had never been this. She felt suddenly angry at him and herself. And the whole stupid kiss that didn't even taste good. She ripped her lips away with a heavy breath to begin shouting when he growled at her. "Shut up."

"I.."

"Ah." He whispered with a tight grin. "No talking."

Instead of answering verbally, she wriggled her fists between their tightly pressed chests and pushed. Hard. She kicked and bit and fought him viciously, not wanting to hear or see his too smug for a prisoner bearing and she was just so angry with the bastard.

His arms and hands tightened their grip about her waist and neck, a tautness to his limbs that wasn't there before. She wanted to claw his good eye out. Her body was on fire, which she couldn't understand because neither of them could bend and damn it, she wanted answers. The fire spread from her belly to her breasts pressed hard against his torso, to her fingers suddenly gripping his hair, to her legs tangling about his waist as she was shoved against a wall.

His lips found her hungry and wanting for something she didn't understand. The pseudo gentle meshing of lips was gone, a feral meeting of teeth and tongues and everything that could touch was touching and burning and it was all so burning hot. It was nothing like she'd thought. Nothing like she'd dreamed. Her legs tightened at his waist and a ragged moan tumbled from his lips and onto hers straight into her clenching belly.

It left her throat dry and her fingers trembling and slightly afraid. She wasn't supposed to feel hot and weak and uncomfortable and wanting his hips to slip into hers exactly like that again where she could feel something she wasn't supposed to like nearly as much as she did. But her hips thrust from the wall again to press against his just to hear the breath catch in his throat to know she wasn't the only one feeling so helpless.

It tasted like ashes and as his lips captured hers again in an achey slide that left her breathless and weak, she thought that it just might have been perfect anyway.

Err. on my way home from the Fiesta Bowl.. this was born. Wierd. I thought it was too short, so I added some things and now I hate it, but oh well. Part of the Oblivion universe.

On the mint and myrrh thing, an old form of mouthwash presumably used in 14th century France.

Please leave feedback, I do love it a lot.

Standard disclaimer applies.