champagne supernova in the sky
#12
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Aaand feel free to metaphor the crap out of their intimacy. I figure after your post I'll reply and have Aurèle leave him.

     Four years ago, she believed she could fly. That she was invincible, and that her world was restricted to the forest and family around her. All of that had changed in a flash of jealousy and flame. Then there had been nothing but the hollow reasoning and the guilt. She could have stopped it. She could have changed everything. Instead she had been so caught up in her own world that she had not realized she was stepping into hell.
     Aurèle felt his hands on her face and she hated the touch. She moved, her lips pulled back, but she did not leave him. Not with that fire in her belly, in her head, in her loins. Both hands left his waist and found his chest, where they were planted heavily. Vaguely, Aurèle wondered if she might break him, found the idea amusing, and began to giggle again. Her legs twisted and her hips moved, and she sought the warmest part of his body for her own. “Not like this,” she promised, voice husky with the wine and the staggering need.




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