Mystwalker Week 2015 day two prompt: royalty. This one is short. Actually all of these so far are a lot shorter than I expect them to be...

Anyway, yah, sorry. I know it's day three of Mystwalker Week but I'm going to be a day behind for now. :P


satiated


She settles into his royal purple covers and slips her body through the silken sheets but the soft and smooth fabrics rest uneasily over her callused skin.

She feels like she's lying in clouds and is drifting through the heavens. She can't tell where her body begins and ends. She feels nothing but an itchy heat lying next to him, and that's how she knows she's flown too high and come to close to the sun.

She discreetly shifts away from his body, but there's not much space for her to move when she's entangled in his embrace.

"You should eat a little more," he frowns, his fingers slowly running down the line of her spine down her back, his eyes gazing at the hard edges of her collarbone—which cave in a lot deeper than he first remembers them.

"I don't need to," she replies.

His chocolate eyes—decadent and dark—flicker up to meet her. He stares so hard into her soul that the insides of her stomach curl.

"I want you to," he tells her, almost like a command.

She is infamous for her insurgence, and the late night is not an off time.

She is always on duty.

"I can't indulge in your riches," she explains. Her nose slightly turns up, as if disgusted by the very scent of unnecessary gluttony.

"Why not?"

She doesn't get into the details. She lets him gnaw at the bones of her calcified resolve and doesn't give him anything more.

She's close enough to smell his sweat, close enough to smell his blood.

He is not akin to her.

"I don't deserve anything more than you do," he suddenly says.

The wise king doesn't understand. There was more distance between them than their touching, bare, and flushed skin.

She keeps her mouth shut. She's not hungry for intimacy and she won't feed words to conversation.

He knows she won't say anything more. He knows that she won't give him anything nor let him give her anything. He knows she's stubborn and dictates herself by a book of unwritten rules. He knows that he can't do much but wait for her to accept his warmth and nourishment.

So he leans in to kiss her, but she dismisses herself.

She doesn't taste his full lips again.

That is enough for the night.


Well. You know me. By default, I write angst. Let me know what you think!

thir13enth