[ clarisse would have been more than happy to let luke suck and bite and massage her thigh with his mouth until she couldn't take it anymore, unraveling at the seams like she had so easily done with his shirt before. with every flick of his tongue and every scrape of his teeth, she can feel herself coming undone, one sensation at a time, and she wonders if this is what it feels like when he wills locks open with only his hand.
she stares at him, almost in a daze, when he returns to his knees, and a part of her questions if this is even real — for a moment, she feels the overwhelming sense of being trapped in the labyrinth again, never quite knowing the difference between what was real and what the labyrinth wanted you to think was real. chris was the realest thing she had when she could no longer trust her own mind — after he had already lost his.
now, luke is her sense of reality as much as he is the thing she keeps finding herself lost in. he is a maze of anger and passion and wit, but there is so much about him she has yet to find, always coming to the same dead ends again and again and again. perhaps it's because she finds herself taking a new route through the labyrinth of luke castellan, that she finds herself more lost than ever, that she needs him to guide her — and shouldn't that be an easy job for the son of the god of travelers? he's already guided her here, through the murky depths of the past, or maybe she just found herself here, a secret entrance she never knew existed, to a man she never knew could exist — all he had to do was take her hand.
her hands come to meet him as he crashes into her and she drops back into the sheets, dragging her nails across his neck and over his back to match the ferocity of his biting kiss. her legs move of their own accord, drawing themselves closer to her abdomen and locking him between her legs while her hips rock up into him. she gives a little grunt, and tries to focus on words, something witty like is that all you've got? but all she can manage between biting at his lips and pulling his hair, burying her face in his neck and clinging to him for all dear life so she doesn't lose herself entirely in him, is: ]
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she stares at him, almost in a daze, when he returns to his knees, and a part of her questions if this is even real — for a moment, she feels the overwhelming sense of being trapped in the labyrinth again, never quite knowing the difference between what was real and what the labyrinth wanted you to think was real. chris was the realest thing she had when she could no longer trust her own mind — after he had already lost his.
now, luke is her sense of reality as much as he is the thing she keeps finding herself lost in. he is a maze of anger and passion and wit, but there is so much about him she has yet to find, always coming to the same dead ends again and again and again. perhaps it's because she finds herself taking a new route through the labyrinth of luke castellan, that she finds herself more lost than ever, that she needs him to guide her — and shouldn't that be an easy job for the son of the god of travelers? he's already guided her here, through the murky depths of the past, or maybe she just found herself here, a secret entrance she never knew existed, to a man she never knew could exist — all he had to do was take her hand.
her hands come to meet him as he crashes into her and she drops back into the sheets, dragging her nails across his neck and over his back to match the ferocity of his biting kiss. her legs move of their own accord, drawing themselves closer to her abdomen and locking him between her legs while her hips rock up into him. she gives a little grunt, and tries to focus on words, something witty like is that all you've got? but all she can manage between biting at his lips and pulling his hair, burying her face in his neck and clinging to him for all dear life so she doesn't lose herself entirely in him, is: ]
Gods, Luke...