Oh love, oh I'm so sorry, she answers, her scent a bright pulse of terror, afraid that she'd actually injured him. But the wounds are closing up right before her eyes, and his blood is wet on her hands. And it smells good.
There is no conscious thought as she bends to clean the blood away, her tongue laving over his skin. Her eyes close and there is a quiet, almost awed, hum on her lips.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2009-06-02 02:58 am (UTC)There is no conscious thought as she bends to clean the blood away, her tongue laving over his skin. Her eyes close and there is a quiet, almost awed, hum on her lips.