#238: Freudian Slip
(Warning: Not suitable for minors!)
Her dark curls straightened as his fingers moved through them like a comb, before they found their way to the back of her head where his fingers curled around the base of his hair. Their lips met repeatedly, at times only parting for air as they lost themselves in the other. Occasionally, her eyes would open and she would smile, running her fingers through his own lengthy locks. His hair was fantastic, and she would have told him such, but he interrupted her train of thought with another passionate kiss.
His hands moved along her shoulders, reaching for the buttons of her blouse as he helped her shed the blouse that was only a few shades darker than her pale skin. His hands seemed much darker against her bare skin as his fingers ran in faint circles over her supple breasts, sparking a gasp as her back arched faintly to meet his touch. It was not long before they fell back onto the mattress, his hands exploring her body without protest. Leaning forward, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. He could feel her every thought, smell her every emotion. He knew she was enjoying herself, knew that she was warming up to the act that was sure to follow, knew that she was thinking about what she could do in return. Even a normal human could smell her anticipation of what was to come. But as her smell washed over him, he knew something else.
The night did not end well after his revelation. He drew away and sent her home. As he unlit the candles, he pondered the nights events. After all the time he had spent looking for the right girl, he did not need another moment to realize that it was the wrong one. Sure, she had the dark curly hair, the big luminous eyes, the pale skin that was silky smooth. But ultimately, none of that mattered.
Ultimately, she was not Delia.
Michael Hunter
Original Character
Word Count: 330
Her dark curls straightened as his fingers moved through them like a comb, before they found their way to the back of her head where his fingers curled around the base of his hair. Their lips met repeatedly, at times only parting for air as they lost themselves in the other. Occasionally, her eyes would open and she would smile, running her fingers through his own lengthy locks. His hair was fantastic, and she would have told him such, but he interrupted her train of thought with another passionate kiss.
His hands moved along her shoulders, reaching for the buttons of her blouse as he helped her shed the blouse that was only a few shades darker than her pale skin. His hands seemed much darker against her bare skin as his fingers ran in faint circles over her supple breasts, sparking a gasp as her back arched faintly to meet his touch. It was not long before they fell back onto the mattress, his hands exploring her body without protest. Leaning forward, he buried his face in the curve of her neck. He could feel her every thought, smell her every emotion. He knew she was enjoying herself, knew that she was warming up to the act that was sure to follow, knew that she was thinking about what she could do in return. Even a normal human could smell her anticipation of what was to come. But as her smell washed over him, he knew something else.
The night did not end well after his revelation. He drew away and sent her home. As he unlit the candles, he pondered the nights events. After all the time he had spent looking for the right girl, he did not need another moment to realize that it was the wrong one. Sure, she had the dark curly hair, the big luminous eyes, the pale skin that was silky smooth. But ultimately, none of that mattered.
Ultimately, she was not Delia.
Michael Hunter
Original Character
Word Count: 330