The words, carefully measured, fumbled near the operative word, just a small hitched breath designed to complete the imagine of himself as unpracticed. And that, all on its own, would have been enough.
But there Saralegui stood, a stranger, pale as a phantom against the dark and gleaming oak, a soft floral scent clinging to his soft skin and shining hair. Tzilan's hand turned, covetous despite himself, and touched the ends of Sara's hair with just his fingertips. His throat tightened as he swallowed.
no subject
The words, carefully measured, fumbled near the operative word, just a small hitched breath designed to complete the imagine of himself as unpracticed. And that, all on its own, would have been enough.
But there Saralegui stood, a stranger, pale as a phantom against the dark and gleaming oak, a soft floral scent clinging to his soft skin and shining hair. Tzilan's hand turned, covetous despite himself, and touched the ends of Sara's hair with just his fingertips. His throat tightened as he swallowed.