Phonos felt as though his skin was on fire with every touch, every feel of her fingertips on his bare flesh. The warmth of her breath on his neck did nothing to calm the excitement of his body in response to her. There was no other word for it. Murder was excited about something outside his purpose and that unnerved and terrified him even more than it angered him. The feelings were foreign and overwhelming and the only thing that scared him more than succumbing was denying them- denying her.
In spite of his reticence to continue, he couldn't pull himself away. Try as Phonos might to will himself back into composure and sanity, her hold on him was too great and he became, instead, a statue against her for the moment as he endeavoured to catch his breath. When Melinoe dropped her hands, he thought the absence might tear him apart. He closed his eyes and focused on her words, on breathing and the softness of her thumb on his wrist.
His hand on her hip was unmoving, unwilling to risk that her own hand might leave his wrist. Phonos straightened the minimum amount needed to regain his balance completely, opening his eyes again while keeping as close to her as possible. The hand which expressed rage a moment before now fell down to pick up her free hand with need and desire. His eyes dropped to watch the connection, unable to look at her as he encouraged her fingers to return beneath his shirt to feel the skin there again. It was out of character for him to ask for anything from her, however minor, and to ask for something so vulnerable was unheard of. Which is why he couldn't ask, couldn't look at her, why he could only encourage her silently and hope that she would understand.
no subject
In spite of his reticence to continue, he couldn't pull himself away. Try as Phonos might to will himself back into composure and sanity, her hold on him was too great and he became, instead, a statue against her for the moment as he endeavoured to catch his breath. When Melinoe dropped her hands, he thought the absence might tear him apart. He closed his eyes and focused on her words, on breathing and the softness of her thumb on his wrist.
His hand on her hip was unmoving, unwilling to risk that her own hand might leave his wrist. Phonos straightened the minimum amount needed to regain his balance completely, opening his eyes again while keeping as close to her as possible. The hand which expressed rage a moment before now fell down to pick up her free hand with need and desire. His eyes dropped to watch the connection, unable to look at her as he encouraged her fingers to return beneath his shirt to feel the skin there again. It was out of character for him to ask for anything from her, however minor, and to ask for something so vulnerable was unheard of. Which is why he couldn't ask, couldn't look at her, why he could only encourage her silently and hope that she would understand.