[ his thrusts become more erratic. rather than following the pattern of pushing himself to the hilt and pulling himself completely out, he finds that his hips are simply smashing into hers like that of a tide against a rocky cliff. it's not as though he doesn't mind it; clarisse is warmer than he ever thought she'd be to him. where she had been ice, and had left him feeling frostbitten, he finds himself feeling burnt, as though he had flown to the sun itself. ]
[ he tries to bite down the groan, but he's turned into a mythical monster himself, with his teeth sinking into the bend of her shoulder. ] Gods, Clarisse. [ he wonders if he'll survive this particular quest. he doubts she won't leave him with marks, but none of them will be as permanent as the scar a golden apple had simultaneously gifted and cursed him with. but he knows her mark will be different. clarisse repeats things that others have done, and does so to find glory meet her at the very bitter end each and every time. but she has stepped out of her routine of a repetitious cycle to find herself on a quest to heal — heal herself, heal him, heal them both. and perhaps that will be her mark, the permanent reminder she leaves of i was here — her forgiveness in his life has elicited forgiveness within and for himself. ]
[ the fingers of his hand in hers grips tighter, trying to imprint his blunt fingernails into the skin of her knuckles. he lifts his face from her shoulder to press his mouth drunkenly to hers, but he misses then and presses against the corner. ] I'm — [ but the thought gets lost as his other hand grips her hip in a bid to anchor himself within this stormy sea. his next attempt at capturing her mouth finds him prying hers open with his lips, haphazardly kissing her and licking at her mouth at the same time. all luke can focus on is her body — how hot she is beneath his mouth, beneath his hands, and how she cocoons him in a scorching heat. ]
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[ he tries to bite down the groan, but he's turned into a mythical monster himself, with his teeth sinking into the bend of her shoulder. ] Gods, Clarisse. [ he wonders if he'll survive this particular quest. he doubts she won't leave him with marks, but none of them will be as permanent as the scar a golden apple had simultaneously gifted and cursed him with. but he knows her mark will be different. clarisse repeats things that others have done, and does so to find glory meet her at the very bitter end each and every time. but she has stepped out of her routine of a repetitious cycle to find herself on a quest to heal — heal herself, heal him, heal them both. and perhaps that will be her mark, the permanent reminder she leaves of i was here — her forgiveness in his life has elicited forgiveness within and for himself. ]
[ the fingers of his hand in hers grips tighter, trying to imprint his blunt fingernails into the skin of her knuckles. he lifts his face from her shoulder to press his mouth drunkenly to hers, but he misses then and presses against the corner. ] I'm — [ but the thought gets lost as his other hand grips her hip in a bid to anchor himself within this stormy sea. his next attempt at capturing her mouth finds him prying hers open with his lips, haphazardly kissing her and licking at her mouth at the same time. all luke can focus on is her body — how hot she is beneath his mouth, beneath his hands, and how she cocoons him in a scorching heat. ]