it was lurvely, rushed or no <3
wc: 5+
SoSuWriMo: 610
Perhaps she should have made clearer note of the surprising naivety of his gaze, but China was lost already to the deep stirring tides of enthrallment. She could feel his heart pumping beneath her palm, and it was intoxicating. The most peculiar feeling had crawled under her skin, nestled within each sense, till she could not just feel the organ's continual and timeless beat, but really truly feel it. Inside her very bones. Somewhere, within, hers matched the reckless pace of youth, but his - His was steady and clear, the beating of a single war-drum. Strong. Alive.
In age, they were not so separate - The passage of moons which marked the time that she had walked this earth before him meant very, very little to the Lykoi princess. In all manners of maturity, it may have been argued in face that he was the elder of the pair. But in this, she was the sorceress; This was her game. She, alone, knew each fall of the dice. But in this, the girl was obnoxiously ignorant. For all the exposure she may have had, China was yet an unbloomed bud, pristine and pure as the white snow. This made her feel unaccountably shy. Where he had gained some sort of inner confidence, hers was gradually being sapped away with each tentative brush of the boy's artistic hand.
Startlingly, from the depths of her melting mind sprang the conscious thought that none, not even Kaena, not even her beloved sisters, knew where she was. None of them knew this place. And, with a certainty that lent her strength, China assured herself that none of them knew this boy. He was hers - Her little secret.
Never did she pause to consider that the blade could fall both ways.
His hand rose to her smiling face, and her eyes fluttered shut, head tilting just slightly so as to rest against those seeking fingers. Yes, she like him. His touch reminded her of what she had lost, in coming to this place. It reminded her of who she was, and what she wanted. But more, she liked to look upon him, for he was as pleasing a creature as any she had seen. She liked the sound of his voice, and she liked that he used it very, very little. Mostly, she liked the way he looked at her with those chaotic eyes, like she was a present to be unwrapped, or a puzzle to be solved. It made the simple girl feel complex, beautiful. Special.
His touch trailed down her throat to the hollow where the blood gurgled merrily, leaping out towards his seeking fingers. Lower still, over the rise of her collarbone. A tremble, untamed, shivered through her sylphie form. She had lost the ability to think clearly, above the punctuation of soft inhales and the tumultuous pace of her pulse. Smile was replaced with a look of clear intensity, as though a moment of clarity had struck her. The palm that had lingered on his chest lifted now to cover his own roving fingers, and guided the boy's hand to one smallish breast. Beneath it ran her own heartbeat, faster than his, pumping against her birdcage ribs as though it wished to meet his palm. Her eyes were feverbright as they watched him. "Feel it?" The girl's whisper was conspiratory, as though she were offering him a ripe secret, something rare and forbidden, "You made it race like that." A devious smile flirted with her flushed features, unruly strands of short-cropped hair dancing about angelic face.
The brittle breeze continued to bluster, but she didn't feel the cold anymore.
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