[ his scar has always been something people fear; they stare at it like it's some big, ugly thing. and luke has always wondered if that's what it truly is. he's conflicted on how he feels about it, for it's a reminder of a success and a reminder of a failure. but with clarisse's hands, so soft against it in a way that makes him want to purr appreciation for her not finding it hideous, luke wonders if it's something to behold, like that of a golden apple. but he doesn't mean to snatch his face away from her hands; he presses his lips, ever so briefly, to the palm of her hand, as if to say sorry. ]
[ he's positive it's his name, desperate and hot, on her tongue that sends him over the edge. she's been pushing him all this time to this point, to stand at the very edge of the cliff, toes curled over the rocks. he's been waiting for her to push him, with all that ares strength to send him soaring into the sharper rocks below. but he finds that he's not alone when he falls, for it's not the sharp blades he falls into to cut him, but it's the softness of clarisse, with all her hard edges, that he collapses onto. pressing his chest to hers, his hand wrapped in her own never stops gripping hers as tightly as one would the sun if they could reach it. luke groans, his hips moving fast, erratic as they were before, but the tenacity behind them begins to dissipate. his sloppy kisses turn into something more accurate, more practised, with him being able to focus on her mouth and rather than the feeling of him within her. ]
Fucking hell, Clarisse. [ he shifts to pull her earlobe between his teeth, breathing heavily against her flesh as he drags his teeth down the slope of her neck, hips still moving against hers. even though he's beginning to feel spent, he likes the feeling of his bone against hers, him being hilt deep within this powerful goddess. his other hand comes to press low on her abdomen in a bid to press against where they join. the hand held against the sheets tries to submerge hers beneath the waves of the linens, pressing so hard he's not sure if he's somehow melded his fingers to hers. ]
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[ he's positive it's his name, desperate and hot, on her tongue that sends him over the edge. she's been pushing him all this time to this point, to stand at the very edge of the cliff, toes curled over the rocks. he's been waiting for her to push him, with all that ares strength to send him soaring into the sharper rocks below. but he finds that he's not alone when he falls, for it's not the sharp blades he falls into to cut him, but it's the softness of clarisse, with all her hard edges, that he collapses onto. pressing his chest to hers, his hand wrapped in her own never stops gripping hers as tightly as one would the sun if they could reach it. luke groans, his hips moving fast, erratic as they were before, but the tenacity behind them begins to dissipate. his sloppy kisses turn into something more accurate, more practised, with him being able to focus on her mouth and rather than the feeling of him within her. ]
Fucking hell, Clarisse. [ he shifts to pull her earlobe between his teeth, breathing heavily against her flesh as he drags his teeth down the slope of her neck, hips still moving against hers. even though he's beginning to feel spent, he likes the feeling of his bone against hers, him being hilt deep within this powerful goddess. his other hand comes to press low on her abdomen in a bid to press against where they join. the hand held against the sheets tries to submerge hers beneath the waves of the linens, pressing so hard he's not sure if he's somehow melded his fingers to hers. ]