(no subject)
Stupid ff that hits the mind...Posting it here to see if someone can help (even though I totally don't belong to any HP related things lmao.
Too many nights spent alone without her serpent’s kiss. She would wait all night, sometimes without sleep, just to find that he had left her by herself, longing for that which would not be hers. It was the nights when she did not want him, when she had sworn up and down that she would no longer take his cold and rash feelings, that he would come. A sneer upon his face at first that soon subsided into a smirk formed with lips so perfect that she could not deny herself the pleasure of dancing her own upon them.
Taunting and teasingly, he would saunter over to her, his cloaks picking up wind in the stillest of nights and floating behind him as if it were all a dream. At first she would act as if she was not interested, even fight against his grip and slap him furiously. His hand would wrap around her wrist as she went to hit him and he would look down at it with icy cold blue eyes that turned affectionate, or at the very least an imitation of what he called affection. A second glance at his features and she gave in to the temptation. His lips would press against her palm, tracing her lifelines with his tongue ever so gently. Then, when she was at her weakest, he would pull her to him, throwing her arm down heatedly and wrapping his arms around her waist, viciously keeping her against him.
This was such a night.
“I’m sorry,” he hissed, knowing that the words meant nothing and that she was already under his spell. “I didn’t think.”
“You never think,” she replied, glaring at him.
“I’m thinking right now,” he retorted.
“Yes,” she agreed, looking towards the ground for a moment and then back up at him. “But what part are you thinking with?”
“Why must you be so insolent?” he asked, aggravated.
Turning from her, he faced the wall, losing his cool demeanor. He shoved his hands through his bone white locks as he walked to the far end of the room and began pacing, always keeping his face pointed away from her. He closed his eyes, feeling her glaring stare on his back the entire time. As he regained his composure, he slowly turned around to face her. She kept his gaze, not afraid of him like so many other of his former playthings.
“You know what insolence does to me,” he whispered, quickly making his way across the room, pulling her towards him in one swift motion. “There is no greater ignition of my flame than the impertinence of a fair creature.”
“I am far from fair and you have no flame left to ignite. Your heart died long ago and your soul never existed, so what is there left?”
“My head.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve always wanted to enkindle a tortured person’s mind. Alas, my dreams have come true,” she replied with great disdain.
She pulled herself from his grip and collapsed onto the velvety couch behind her. She looked up at him as he stared down at her. He knew that she no longer was taking this as a game but as something more personal.
“What do you want from me?”
“Something you cannot give me,” she replied, cryptically. “It’s not something you can buy and place inside a pretty little box. So you know nothing of it.”
“What have I done to cause so much rage in you?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her, his voice soft.
Looking down at him, she could see how docile his eyes had gotten and how he peered up at her so intently. He gently grabbed one of her hands and kissed it, keeping his eyes on her. Slowly, he leaned upwards and closer to her. He embraced her face with careful, warm hands, his movements leisurely and delicate. His lips dexterously meshed with hers, warm kisses exchanged with soft murmurs. Once he was satisfied with her lips he pulled away ever so slightly, keeping them close enough that any movement could bring them together again.
“Tell me what I have done to cause your wrath,” he said, viciously biting down on her lip. “Tell me so that I may do it again.”
Angrily, she pushed him away from her and to the floor. He laughed harshly and glared up at her. She stood from the couch, nearly stepping on him as she walked towards the farthest wall from where he was.
“What did you expect?”
“Nothing…Absolutely nothing,” she replied. Her arms were wrapped tightly over her chest and she was gently sucking her bottom lip that he had bitten, tasting the coppery blood on her tongue. “I would like you to leave.”
Snarling, he stood up and made his way over to her. He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaned in close to her. His body was practically pressed up against her back and he ran the tip of his nose against her neck, inhaling her scent. She took a sharp breath in and her chest rose and fell dramatically.
“I’m the only one who can cause your body to react like that,” he said knowingly. He removed one of his hands from her shoulders and ran it over her stomach, pushing up the fabric of her shirt. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”
“Yes, it’s true. But when did feeling like a whore become a good thing?” she questioned.
“I treat you better than any whore could wish to be treated,” he replied, moving away from her.
Moving to the other side of the room, he settled into the couch and watched her as she slid to the ground. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She stared at him from her position on the floor, glad that there was a safe distance between the two of them.
He couldn’t help but want her as she sat there, looking through his eyes and into his core without knowing it. He wanted to pick her up off the floor and be everything that she wanted, needed, him to be. But he knew better than to do that. He was his father’s son, after all. The men of his family were strong, fearless, cold creatures.
“We need to end this,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because all you do is hurt me and all I want is not to be another play thing. I’m not foolish, I was never expecting you to love me, but I could never imagine that one person with blood still pumping through his veins could be so cold.”
“Cold? You see this as being cold?” he asked, a bitter laugh coming out with his words. “This is nothing…My love.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Mock, I wasn’t mocking. I was merely playing with your words.” He spread his arms out across the back out the couch and started at her snarkily. “My love…That is what you want that can’t be wrapped in a pretty little box. You want to hear that I love you? You rightfully never expected it, but you hoped for it. Whether you admitted it to yourself or not.” He looked over at her as she set her eyes on the ground, knowing that he understood her much more than she would have liked. “Well, that’s the closest you’ll ever come to hearing them.”
And now I have no idea what happens next lol.
Too many nights spent alone without her serpent’s kiss. She would wait all night, sometimes without sleep, just to find that he had left her by herself, longing for that which would not be hers. It was the nights when she did not want him, when she had sworn up and down that she would no longer take his cold and rash feelings, that he would come. A sneer upon his face at first that soon subsided into a smirk formed with lips so perfect that she could not deny herself the pleasure of dancing her own upon them.
Taunting and teasingly, he would saunter over to her, his cloaks picking up wind in the stillest of nights and floating behind him as if it were all a dream. At first she would act as if she was not interested, even fight against his grip and slap him furiously. His hand would wrap around her wrist as she went to hit him and he would look down at it with icy cold blue eyes that turned affectionate, or at the very least an imitation of what he called affection. A second glance at his features and she gave in to the temptation. His lips would press against her palm, tracing her lifelines with his tongue ever so gently. Then, when she was at her weakest, he would pull her to him, throwing her arm down heatedly and wrapping his arms around her waist, viciously keeping her against him.
This was such a night.
“I’m sorry,” he hissed, knowing that the words meant nothing and that she was already under his spell. “I didn’t think.”
“You never think,” she replied, glaring at him.
“I’m thinking right now,” he retorted.
“Yes,” she agreed, looking towards the ground for a moment and then back up at him. “But what part are you thinking with?”
“Why must you be so insolent?” he asked, aggravated.
Turning from her, he faced the wall, losing his cool demeanor. He shoved his hands through his bone white locks as he walked to the far end of the room and began pacing, always keeping his face pointed away from her. He closed his eyes, feeling her glaring stare on his back the entire time. As he regained his composure, he slowly turned around to face her. She kept his gaze, not afraid of him like so many other of his former playthings.
“You know what insolence does to me,” he whispered, quickly making his way across the room, pulling her towards him in one swift motion. “There is no greater ignition of my flame than the impertinence of a fair creature.”
“I am far from fair and you have no flame left to ignite. Your heart died long ago and your soul never existed, so what is there left?”
“My head.”
“Oh, yes, I’ve always wanted to enkindle a tortured person’s mind. Alas, my dreams have come true,” she replied with great disdain.
She pulled herself from his grip and collapsed onto the velvety couch behind her. She looked up at him as he stared down at her. He knew that she no longer was taking this as a game but as something more personal.
“What do you want from me?”
“Something you cannot give me,” she replied, cryptically. “It’s not something you can buy and place inside a pretty little box. So you know nothing of it.”
“What have I done to cause so much rage in you?” he asked, kneeling down in front of her, his voice soft.
Looking down at him, she could see how docile his eyes had gotten and how he peered up at her so intently. He gently grabbed one of her hands and kissed it, keeping his eyes on her. Slowly, he leaned upwards and closer to her. He embraced her face with careful, warm hands, his movements leisurely and delicate. His lips dexterously meshed with hers, warm kisses exchanged with soft murmurs. Once he was satisfied with her lips he pulled away ever so slightly, keeping them close enough that any movement could bring them together again.
“Tell me what I have done to cause your wrath,” he said, viciously biting down on her lip. “Tell me so that I may do it again.”
Angrily, she pushed him away from her and to the floor. He laughed harshly and glared up at her. She stood from the couch, nearly stepping on him as she walked towards the farthest wall from where he was.
“What did you expect?”
“Nothing…Absolutely nothing,” she replied. Her arms were wrapped tightly over her chest and she was gently sucking her bottom lip that he had bitten, tasting the coppery blood on her tongue. “I would like you to leave.”
Snarling, he stood up and made his way over to her. He placed his hands on either side of her shoulders and leaned in close to her. His body was practically pressed up against her back and he ran the tip of his nose against her neck, inhaling her scent. She took a sharp breath in and her chest rose and fell dramatically.
“I’m the only one who can cause your body to react like that,” he said knowingly. He removed one of his hands from her shoulders and ran it over her stomach, pushing up the fabric of her shirt. “I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”
“Yes, it’s true. But when did feeling like a whore become a good thing?” she questioned.
“I treat you better than any whore could wish to be treated,” he replied, moving away from her.
Moving to the other side of the room, he settled into the couch and watched her as she slid to the ground. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She stared at him from her position on the floor, glad that there was a safe distance between the two of them.
He couldn’t help but want her as she sat there, looking through his eyes and into his core without knowing it. He wanted to pick her up off the floor and be everything that she wanted, needed, him to be. But he knew better than to do that. He was his father’s son, after all. The men of his family were strong, fearless, cold creatures.
“We need to end this,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because all you do is hurt me and all I want is not to be another play thing. I’m not foolish, I was never expecting you to love me, but I could never imagine that one person with blood still pumping through his veins could be so cold.”
“Cold? You see this as being cold?” he asked, a bitter laugh coming out with his words. “This is nothing…My love.”
“Don’t mock me.”
“Mock, I wasn’t mocking. I was merely playing with your words.” He spread his arms out across the back out the couch and started at her snarkily. “My love…That is what you want that can’t be wrapped in a pretty little box. You want to hear that I love you? You rightfully never expected it, but you hoped for it. Whether you admitted it to yourself or not.” He looked over at her as she set her eyes on the ground, knowing that he understood her much more than she would have liked. “Well, that’s the closest you’ll ever come to hearing them.”
And now I have no idea what happens next lol.