All I can feel
He's all I can feel against me, his arms wrapped around my shaking form, his lips on my hair, his scent of Absinthe and worry. Such devotion. Such love. And though I'm trembling, whimpering, crying, I grip him harder and pull closer, arms wrapping around his neck.
"I love you…" Choking back a sob, I burry my face into his neck, squeezing my eyes shut to control the crystalline drops wanting to escape.
His fingers are in my hair, so lovingly caressing it, trying to calm me down, even as he's just as worried as I am. Perhaps more. This night could have been terrible, could have been something drastic compared to what it is. The Duke…the memory of him, of his hands on me and his lips against me makes me shudder, and I grip harder against Christian's shoulder, trying desperately to hold on to something I already have.
"I want to…" A laugh, so softly, and I can't believe I'm choking on my words. Courtesans don't cry. And here I am, sobbing so roughly. "Just…stay with me. I need you here with me."
It's amazing…how much love can make a difference. Moments ago I was clinging, screaming, fighting and clawing at the person trying to remove my clothes, and now, I'm bending and yielding to it. But Christian was always gentle…Christian was always something pure, something sweet compared to my tainted self.
He shouldn't want me like this…and I shouldn't feel so much pleasure at having him, at having his mouth on my skin, goosebumps prickling up on ivory flesh, flushed and trembling still. But this time, I don't mind it so much.
The bed's soft on my back, pillow like silk against my hot neck and face as I turn into it, strangled moan passing through colored lips as I arch up, fingers digging into his skin, and hearing him sigh is enough to make me smile, wipe away these tears that have stained me.
*******
"I don't need you anymore! All my life you've made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me…he loves me, Harold...And that is worth everything."
My mascara's running, my cheeks are wet, my petticoat is hanging from my shoulders and my hair is nothing more then a tumbled mess of red locks. The rouge applied to my skin has all but faded, but it flushes, it glows with the emotions burning inside of me, and I can't seem to wipe away these tears without more spilling down. Over and over. I could drowned this place, this building of night time horrors in my tears.
My chest heaves beneath this binding of blackness, the tight clothe so firmly holding my stomach in place, commanding that I stand and sit straight, breasts nearly completely exposed. There's marks on my skin, marring it. Hatred and jealousy are so strong…I always knew that. But it shouldn't affect me. It shouldn't have scarred my flesh, and diamonds should not have bruised my neck.
Sniffling, my fingers wipe at my cheeks, beneath my eyes as I breath in, struggling as the air catches in my throat, bottom lip trembling as I fight back the urge to cry even harder. Fight back the urge to give up on the one being I've handed my soul over to. So I turn, hair flipped over my shoulders, fingers crawling at the wood of the doorframe.
"You're dieing, Satine."
Gripping this hard jewel around my neck is the only thing I can do to keep from crying out. And the coldness presses against my fingers, into my heated palm, and it's all I can feel.
He's all I can feel against me, his arms wrapped around my shaking form, his lips on my hair, his scent of Absinthe and worry. Such devotion. Such love. And though I'm trembling, whimpering, crying, I grip him harder and pull closer, arms wrapping around his neck.
"I love you…" Choking back a sob, I burry my face into his neck, squeezing my eyes shut to control the crystalline drops wanting to escape.
His fingers are in my hair, so lovingly caressing it, trying to calm me down, even as he's just as worried as I am. Perhaps more. This night could have been terrible, could have been something drastic compared to what it is. The Duke…the memory of him, of his hands on me and his lips against me makes me shudder, and I grip harder against Christian's shoulder, trying desperately to hold on to something I already have.
"I want to…" A laugh, so softly, and I can't believe I'm choking on my words. Courtesans don't cry. And here I am, sobbing so roughly. "Just…stay with me. I need you here with me."
It's amazing…how much love can make a difference. Moments ago I was clinging, screaming, fighting and clawing at the person trying to remove my clothes, and now, I'm bending and yielding to it. But Christian was always gentle…Christian was always something pure, something sweet compared to my tainted self.
He shouldn't want me like this…and I shouldn't feel so much pleasure at having him, at having his mouth on my skin, goosebumps prickling up on ivory flesh, flushed and trembling still. But this time, I don't mind it so much.
The bed's soft on my back, pillow like silk against my hot neck and face as I turn into it, strangled moan passing through colored lips as I arch up, fingers digging into his skin, and hearing him sigh is enough to make me smile, wipe away these tears that have stained me.
*******
"I don't need you anymore! All my life you've made me believe I was only worth what someone would pay for me! But Christian loves me…he loves me, Harold...And that is worth everything."
My mascara's running, my cheeks are wet, my petticoat is hanging from my shoulders and my hair is nothing more then a tumbled mess of red locks. The rouge applied to my skin has all but faded, but it flushes, it glows with the emotions burning inside of me, and I can't seem to wipe away these tears without more spilling down. Over and over. I could drowned this place, this building of night time horrors in my tears.
My chest heaves beneath this binding of blackness, the tight clothe so firmly holding my stomach in place, commanding that I stand and sit straight, breasts nearly completely exposed. There's marks on my skin, marring it. Hatred and jealousy are so strong…I always knew that. But it shouldn't affect me. It shouldn't have scarred my flesh, and diamonds should not have bruised my neck.
Sniffling, my fingers wipe at my cheeks, beneath my eyes as I breath in, struggling as the air catches in my throat, bottom lip trembling as I fight back the urge to cry even harder. Fight back the urge to give up on the one being I've handed my soul over to. So I turn, hair flipped over my shoulders, fingers crawling at the wood of the doorframe.
"You're dieing, Satine."
Gripping this hard jewel around my neck is the only thing I can do to keep from crying out. And the coldness presses against my fingers, into my heated palm, and it's all I can feel.