Have you ever played with fire?
Glynda presses her palms against the flat of Cinder's shoulder blades, shudders when the other woman wraps her hands across the nape of her neck. It should scare her, the way that Cinder reaches around like a vinous snake to touch her, like she's addicted, like it's wrong.
After all, nothing that feels this good is right. Glynda's been alive long enough to know that there's a sacrifice for every sin, a burden for every bullet.
Cinder feels like smoke and nothingness between Glynda's fingertips; she feels like she isn't real. So Glynda makes her real, sinks her teeth into every part of Cinder, bruises her up until there's orchids and coals on the insides of her thighs, and a garden of black blooms along the stride of her waist.
When it's all over, and Cinder lays there, smiling through bloody, painted teeth, Glynda wonders if Cinder knows everything about her. She wonders if Cinder thinks that she's wrong. She wants to tell Cinder that she's not angry at her - she was never angry at her - she's angry at herself for giving into her biggest vice every single time.
Have you ever done something you regretted?
Cinder runs her fingers through her hair. Glynda notes the strands separating and realigning when her long nails disappear from blackwater, just like the ocean tide, breaking and repairing itself all over.
She should be paying attention in class. That's what she should be doing, not staring at this other girl across the room, who has eyes like the amber beads on her grandmother's rosary, hard and sharp and pretty enough to make her feel like she's wrong about everything.
She should be paying attention in class.
Should is a funny word though, should is a word full of regret and disappointment, but somehow, Glynda doesn't want to protect herself from its judgmental sting this time around - she wants to stare at Cinder Fall until she can find out what it is about her that keeps her from thinking straight.
Have you ever felt Sin press its fingers against the roof of your mouth?
"Goodwitch! Wait up!" Cinder calls after Glynda as class lets up. Glynda slows down and lets Cinder catch next up to her in the empty hallway. Glynda's far taller, but she feels small next to Cinder, and the vague shape of her body in her periphery feels like a blur, a faint press of her arms Cinder's.
"What is it?"
Cinder raises her brows, just a knee jerk reaction to Glynda's piercing gaze settling on her.
"I saw you looking at me today in class." She revels in the heat flooding through Glynda's cheeks. "Is there something you want to say to me?"
Cinder doesn't give Glynda a chance to stutter or blush, and pins the blonde against a locker, her wrist trapped under a cage of Cinder's sharp nails.
"Because there's something I want to say to you."
Glynda's breath heaves, and she looks down at Cinder, who presses her chest against Glynda's like a cat in heat.
"W-What is it?"
Cinder licks her lips, and Glynda wonders how they stay scarlet all the time, like there's blood on her mouth.
"It isn't really something you can put into words… you know?" Her voice unravels into a purr, and she strokes her hand up Glynda's side. Glynda strains against Cinder's grasp, but her slight frame is deceiving; she was stronger than she looked.
Their eyes meet, and Glynda clamps down on her lower lip with her teeth, hoping to wake herself from whatever fucked up dream she's having.
Cinder smiles.
"I'll show you."
She seals her mouth across Glynda's, swallows down her first cry of surprise when she sucks at the bundle of capillaries at the blonde's lower lip, nibbles at them until blood passes between their kisses.
Glynda reads into every kiss - each one feels different, with different intention and emotion. She reaches for Cinder's cheek, thumbs across it with her finger, shakily the first time, then more assured the second.
Cinder chuckles under her breath, parts her mouth to let the sound escape, soft and breathy. She pushes closer to Glynda, twists her fingers into the blonde's and kisses down her neck.
Cinder's mouth presses slow, wet kisses across Glynda's skin, and every vein that she passes tightens, drawn taut with anticipation. When teeth slip just under the collar of her blouse, hook at the top button and clip into her bones, Glynda arches with a soft pant.
"Why are you doing this?" She asks stiltedly, shutting her eyes.
Cinder pauses, and when Glynda looks down at her, she seems to be caught a crossroads before shifting down onto her knees, shaking her head a bit regretfully.
"You talk too much."
… What keeps you coming back?
"I don't want to do this anymore." Glynda whispers into the silence, and she hates how her voice falters. She can't even convince herself. She's too old to be making the same mistakes over and over again and too young to be forgiven for them. Starting as a Professor at Beacon was supposed to bring a new start for her, a way for her to stop licking at old wounds.
Cinder doesn't even look like she's heard what Glynda's said as she slips on her catsuit. The inked patterns wrapped along her ribcage disappear one at a time, feather and flame covered by a rising sea of black leather.
"You and I both know that you're lying between your teeth right now." Cinder purrs. She takes a step towards the bed and grits her teeth, grips her hip with a hand and groans. "Fuck, you couldn't have gone easy on me tonight?"
Glynda pulls the sheets across her cold skin, closes her eyes. She wants to disappear so that she won't feel pinned under Cinder's hollow gaze. It's like she's trapped whenever they're together, and she's breathing shallow water that manages to fill her lungs and none of the other holes in her soul that could use repair.
"We have to stop. I can't do this."
"I don't think there's anything that you can't do, Glynda." Cinder's voice rings out, teasing and gentle. "But you'll come back. I know that you will. You and I, we're meant to be. And we'll break each other. The question is… who'll shatter first?" She smiles with too many teeth, predatory. "Romantic, isn't it?"
"Let me go. Why can't you just let me leave?" Glynda's voice is small in the room, cowardly and cold like a wet breeze.
"Because I'm not keeping you." Cinder snaps suddenly. Her eyes glow, flinty and sharp enough to cut through stone. She seems to have surprised even herself, and relaxes instantly, limbs languid and easy smile returning to the cruel curve of her mouth.
"I'm not keeping you." Cinder repeats the phrase, and it becomes real, just real as when Glynda imprisons Cinder under her fingers, cups her hands around black smoke and breathes it in.
Cinder slips across the room and perches on the windowsill before swinging out the glass panes. Shards of moonlight crisscross across her face and throw a thin net of silver links along her black hair. She's an image that transcends past anything normal, and the smile peeking through her teeth is all knowing.
When Cinder angles her head and stares straight at Glynda, she finally realizes that should isn't a word of regret or disappointment, it's a word that people use when they're scared that they've made all the wrong decisions in life. She should have paid attention in class when she still had the chance to look away, she should have pushed Cinder away, she should know better by now.
"You know how to find me, Glynda." Cinder flings herself from the windowsill, down into the night like a black cat, and leaves Glynda behind with nothing but the feeling after receiving a bad omen.