𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓 ~ | 𝘔𝘢𝘹 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯

Kingmaker

~'~

Loving is insanity in its most exquisite form.

To live with it is insanity, but to choose to live without it is madness.

And yet, what choice is there?

To love is to embrace ruin, to open the door and invite the storm to hollow you out, to say, "Here is my soul, do with it what you will," and hope desperately that they are gentle.

I would give him my soul. I would give him anything he wanted, just as long as his lips stayed on mine. As long as his hands never moved from my body.

He didn't know how much power he had over me.

How I feel like a fragile thing in his hands, like I might shatter if he squeezes too tight. Maybe it's better this way, that he doesn't know. If he realized how unsteady I am, how much I've already given, would he even want me anymore? The thought turns my stomach, yet I can't let go.

I don't even know how to try.

The truth is, I'm afraid of him. Of everything he could do to me without even realizing it.

A wrong word, a careless gesture, and I'll fold. I'll give everything and blame myself for it when he inevitably walks away. But how can you love someone without surrendering that part of yourself? Without letting them in, no matter the cost?

He scares me in the way all beautiful things do, with the possibility of losing him, with the possibility that having him might ruin me. But if love is fear, then it's also courage, isn't it? And I want to be brave. For him. For me. For whatever this might become.

I want him to ruin me.

I'll burn for him.

As long as the flames taste like him.

It wasn't gentle, not the way I had always imagined it. No soft exploration or tender brush. This kiss was fierce, hungry, as though he couldn't help himself, frenzied as though something inside him snapped, as if every part of him was in the act of rediscovering me. He kissed me like it was something he had forgotten, something he had to know again, deeply, irrevocably.

His lips moved against mine with a desperate rhythm of everything we had ever fought over, every drop of pent up desire, every insult, and every contradiction tumbling out in this one, breathtaking collision of bodies, hearts, and the impossibility of what we were.

The edges of my thoughts blurred, fading into the intoxicating clarity of him.

There was nothing but him.

His chest, his warmth, the insistent pressure of his mouth, the taste of him like salt and something far sweeter, as though he was trying to pull me deeper into him. His breath caught against my lips, warm, uneven, desperate, as if he couldn't quite believe he was here, as if he had fought for this moment as I had, and still wasn't sure it was enough.

He kissed me until the fabric of reality had unraveled, until time had ceased to exist. I had no sense of anything else anymore, no thought but him, no beginning or end.

His hands roamed to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. I felt myself melting under him, becoming a part of him, our bodies pressed together as though they had always known where they belonged.

When he pulled away, only just enough to let air pass between us, his forehead rested gently against mine. My chest rose and fell with each breath I struggled to take, each one dragging me into a new and unfamiliar feeling. My hands fumbled for a place to hold him, my body betrayed by its sudden tremors, its longing to keep him close even as reality settled around us.