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battle scars | drabble
Fingers brush against soft skin, heat rising between her thighs. She tries to ignore it, but the tension between them could be cut with a goddamn knife and suddenly, she’s like putty in his hands. Molding herself into something he could be proud of - in and out of the bedroom, shaping herself into his perfect little play thing, his obedient ‘little girl’. At her core, she knows this is where she was meant to be - her fingers through his hair, his lips on her neck. They say nothing, but the silence says so much.
‘I need you.’ ‘Please don’t go.’ ‘Stay with me tonight.’
She knows that time is fragile, and this moment could pass them by just as suddenly as it comes. Her anxiety is rising, but so is the warmth in her stomach as his hands find their way to her backside, rough pads leaving goosebumps where they once were. It’s only then when she relaxes, under his touch, under his spell.
They moved as if it were the last time they would see each other like this- their skin left bruised and battered from battles they had no choice but to fight on their own. She knew that he would be leaving in the morning, and they’d act like it never happened, and things would be left unsaid. He would find solace in another, just as he had many times before, and they'd repeat the cycle until one of them breaks under pressure. But for now, they clung to each other, knuckles torn and bloody, until the sun rose over the horizon.
And then, she was alone.
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