it always feels a little like something stolen. time, love, light. in this room, with him, with julius, joy snatched before it can be snatched away; it's there in the way she touches him now, the grip of her fingers at his jaw, tilting him where she can make the most of him. she twists a fist into her skirts, hitching petticoats enough that she can set a knee between his, slot them together, closer, flutter against him the softer and costlier fabric underneath all her unremarkable sheet-blues. )
You feel alive to me, ( a murmur, against his mouth. ) Lively.
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it always feels a little like something stolen. time, love, light. in this room, with him, with julius, joy snatched before it can be snatched away; it's there in the way she touches him now, the grip of her fingers at his jaw, tilting him where she can make the most of him. she twists a fist into her skirts, hitching petticoats enough that she can set a knee between his, slot them together, closer, flutter against him the softer and costlier fabric underneath all her unremarkable sheet-blues. )
You feel alive to me, ( a murmur, against his mouth. ) Lively.