DEVIANT HEARTS| HEESEUNG

37-Burry Myself In My Tomb

Athena's pov

"Kiss you?" he repeated, with a hint of a play on the mouth.

"Don't play dumb. You wanna kiss me? Why are you fighting the fire between us? Why fight the need that's crackling around us like electricity in the air?" I didn't have to finish my request, for his lips swooped down to mine with an urgent fierceness. Our mouths met in that cacophonous symphony of passion, our tongues tangling in a maelstrom of lust. The rain's taste mingled with the essence of his sin on his lips, a hell inside a paradise. We devoured each other as if some insatiable hunger was driving our bodies to lock in this dance of dominance and surrender.

With the undeniable urge for breath, I leaned back and softened into his gaze. "I forgive you," I whispered, the delicate tenderness of my voice laced in my words.

"You may idealize me as you would like," he said, his voice at once inordinately defiant yet resigned. "But let us not forget, I remain a devil.

"Oh, cease your protests and kiss me," I instructed as I grasped his face with both hands. My fingers intermingled with his longer, silken hair, pulling him forward to deepen the touch of our lips anew. My touch was eager, and hot, as I palmed his face, tracing every contour, every nuance as we fought for dominance in our kiss.

He lifted his head, and his eyes met mine in silent interplay, in an understanding stare of vulnerability that spoke more than words could, an unconscious vow of the complication that was binding us. We went into each other, lost in a moment of wordless contemplation, where no words needed to be heard out loud, only unspoken truths conveyed through the eyes.

Heeseung's pov

I stood at the edge of my desire, which tussled with every storm in my heart. Her brown hair cascaded softly, in waves against her bare skin and breasts; each strand painted my fingers rich, and dark. And as I enfolded her close, firm curls wrapped round my fingers like an intimate, bristled touch to make every touch keen and electric. I pressed my lips to hers in that charged moment, fates sealed with a kiss as if beyond the limitation of words.

Literally, in that second before skin grazed skin, every nerve in her body seemed to crackle with anticipation, electric potential alive in the air between us. Concrete real, more than any vow spoken, was every touch visceral.

She was my vice, the very essence of her being some kind of potent drug. When our skin touched, I was inebriated, lost in a heady mix of need and desire. How we came to be in the darkened room upstairs wasn't quite clear, but there we were, caught in the twilight of our own making.

In that dimmed room, I was close enough for her to inhale my scent, my arms wrapped around her back. She twisted in my arms, shivered, and moaned in my mouth. I felt her warm waking wrap against mine like a cloak of od destruction and ruin. With a raw tug, our bare skin touched, and I was in the softness of her hair while my fingers traced the silky path releasing it from its bonds. My hand then strayed softly down her cheekbones, stopping at her lips.

It was the beginning of the kiss, and we moved together, dancers bound by fate, every move attesting to our intermingled destinies. I was not afraid to allow her to touch me, releasing her into the freedom to explore me at will. Every one of their kisses was a revelation, raw with intensity-while our breaths mingled in the wild, my heart racing that's when I stopped when I relaxed what was I doing for the first time in my life, my ending would be the undoing.

"I have never touched a woman before," I confessed in a voice trembling with both vulnerability and wonder.

She spoke back, "Well, I am not just any woman."