Fuoco e ghiaccio

{Fire and Ice}

by chopin.

Let me tell you how it happened.

A thin finger ran down her cheek.

An involuntary shiver.

A wobble of her knees as she took in his intoxicating smell; like poison, clouding her mind in hazy darkness.

She licked her lips and soon crumpled to the ground as he loomed over her, and she begged him to touch her again with his skilled fingers.

And he would.

Oh, yes, indeed he would.

Touch her like she had never been touched before, until the walls trembled with the intensity of her screams.

A small smirk appeared on his face, and there was an odd glimmer in his strange eyes.

Oh, god, his hands were everywhere. Her breaths became uneven as she began crawling towards him, somehow wanting to get closer to him—and was that humanly possible?

For every fiber of her being told her no, no, no, no, no

But some strange power that beat inside of her told her otherwise—forced her to taste his sweet lips as his tongue invaded her mouth.

She loved every bit of it.

Her hair came loose, from its messy ponytail, and her silky locks of fiery hair tumbled down out of its place, contrasting so beautifully with her bare, pale skin.

He breathed out as he watched her, this beautiful goddess in front of him, and for the very first time in his life, he felt a tug of raw, animalistic desire.

Desire that could not—and would not—be controlled.

He stared down at her with eyes that clearly told her that he was hers.

And she marveled at his beauty. Her ice sculpture, as he moved with catlike grace, those piercing eyes always flashing with mischief. His pale skin was so flawless, she wondered if it was porcelain. His hair such a fine texture, she wondered if it were spun out of gold.

But no more.

No more wondering.

Torture.

Her arms latched around his neck, and his lips placed hot kisses along the side of her neck, down her jaw, to her collarbone.

He was worshipping her, because she was a goddess worthy of it.

She let out gasps and moans to demonstrate the immense pleasure she felt, and if possible, her breathy sighs aroused him further, provoking him to continue ever so enthusiastically.

Passion.

From the distance, thunder struck and lightning hit.

A flash.

And finally, she trembled violently as she shouted his name, oh his beautiful name, and the both of them crumpled onto the cold, tile floor, still embracing one another.

Society told them it was wrong.

But they loved every bit of it.

And this is how it happened—

This is what happened, when fire met ice.