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He shrugged, and his hair swung loosely around his thin face.
Alastor breathed calmly, taking a long breath: the smell of his sweaty skin invaded him completely, to settle at the base of his lungs and never leave him again. He wanted that too, of Lucifer – he wanted everything, absolutely everything, and he wouldn't leave anything behind.
He leaned forward slightly, to bring his nose closer to his neck, there where the aroma intensified, there where more blood flowed. He narrowed his eyes and took a second breath. His warmth almost caressed him, and the sensation of being so close with his lips increased that fragile pleasure, made solely of promises and expectations. Delicate, in a certain sense: it was necessary to manage the balance of pleasure, otherwise you couldn't enjoy anything anymore. -
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Oh, my heart just burst like a glass balloon by Rota
Reasons why I can’t look my psychiatrist in the eyes:
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