Vowels Of Venus( Slow Burn)

My eyes flutter shut.

The word mine shouldn't hit like that. But it does. It erodes in the chambers of my ribcage, reverberates through the thrum between my legs.

"Nikolai..." I breathe, but it's more of a prayer than a protest.

He pulls back just enough to meet my eyes again. His face is unreadable-but his stare? It's molten. Dissecting. Like he's searching for the truth underneath my skin.

"I came down to your room because I can't stand the idea of you pretending," he says, quieter now. "Pretending you didn't feel it when our lips met in that closet. But instead I find myself too, pretending. That you didn't hesitate when Aslan touched you."

"Pretending that you said I wasn't your type?" I pettily laughed. Nikolai stirs on the balls of his feet at this.

I mean he did say it, once he pulled me out of that pool on my first night here in Bellingham.

Now he's sputtering nonsense, could men such as himself go back on his word? Like he never meant it.

"I've ruled oceans," He whispers. "I've bent storms to my will. But you-you undo me with just a glance."

It's then I realize what this is. Not just desire. Not just jealousy.

It's recognition.

He presses his forehead to mine. His breath fans across my lips, warm and scented with salt and something darker-powerful, longing, felt to be the weight of centuries.

And I know that if I speak, I will drown.

So I close my eyes and let the silence speak for me.

(SLOW BURN)