Sparrow

46

Take the mask off
When you speak to me

•

He looked too peaceful sleeping. His shallow breathing filling the silent room, as the plane hovers silently in the night. Buzzing and bumping every so often.

With my small hand placed lightly on his chest, as I let my hair fall down his broad shoulder and the corner of my lips rest softly in the crook of his neck.

His arm stretched out under me, his hand gripping the small of my back like precious treasure. His hands were so much bigger than mine, and I was so small compared to him.

Smaller then I had ever truly realized.

But I have lived in his world of big men and big guns, and much more—how? I should ask myself one time

I had woken long ago, my dreams haunted by darkness . Though I woke up with my body pressed up against his still, his arms encircling me In protection.

That was hours ago now, and I could have moved or shifted, woke him up—but he was exhausted so I let him sleep. Both his mind and his body needed rest, though he would never have had taken it if I had given it.

He was such a dangerous man, I knew that. He was feared and hated, respected and bowed to. He was worse then hell if he wanted to be.

His breathing was shallow, and I counted every rise his chest made. I counted until I lost track and kissed his neck instead.

I was selfish when I went over the edge. Not even realizing all that he needed me for. All I needed him for.

I was ready to die, the rain had chilled me to the point where death didn't even seem that cold anymore.

But I heard him yell my name, right before I closed my eyes. I heard him yell my name into the cars fire. And I fucking wanted to yell his name back, and then suddenly I wasn't okay with dying anymore.

His shirt rode up slightly as he laid on his back, and I let my hand creep up and under it. His skin was hot to the touch, and my hand rested on the ridges of his ribs, over the scar from the knife his dad had stabbed him with when he was a kid.

His body shifted, ever so slightly. His hand digging harder into my back, as his chest tightened. like he had forgotten I was close to him. "Serina?" He called out to me, his voice deep from sleep.

"I'm here." I said as I kissed his jaw, and he let out a breath and pulled me up further onto him.

"How long did I..."he said, his words husky and toned. And fuck he sounded hot.

I traced the scar on his ribs, as I said "a while." I whispered "you sleep so peacefully, did you know that."

He swallowed and brought his hand up to my hair and kissed my forehead. "Nothing about me is peaceful we both know that." He said, and then suddenly he was on top of me.

Though he was careful not to put even an ounce of weight on my side. His hands holding him above me.
His nose brushed across mine, and his eyes looked into mine with desperation and want.

His eyes almost begging for some sort of permission, and I simply smiled as I moved up and kissed his neck.

And he moved a hand under my back as he let me ravish him. We were both sweaty from the hot sheets, and hell we hadn't even done anything yet.