He moans into the ruin of her neck, plunging forward until he feels too much, and then nothing at all. His blood rushes, then weighs him down. It's always as though he's about to take off, and then the world remembers he has no wings.
For himself, he tends to forget.
"Daemion," he murmurs into her hair, "I like that one."
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Date: 2022-08-28 06:00 pm (UTC)For himself, he tends to forget.
"Daemion," he murmurs into her hair, "I like that one."