[ he needs no weapons from the vendors. the weapon is already here, hidden away in the recesses of wonderland where only klaus knows to look. he knows what will kill his mirror; what will stop himself. anything else or less is simply a distraction. a tool.
something flickers in his eyes at her surety, at her faith so decidedly and fully given, for however he has failed her and can fail her now, there is nothing in the world he will not do to protect her, to save her, and there is strength to take from her belief. his chin lifts. his fingertips rub gentle and unthinking caresses into the skin at the nape of her neck, into her hair: small circles that begin to twine wisps of gold.
what he's not expecting is the ferocity of her kiss, the softness and heat of her lips urgent against his. it's instinct and months—years and centuries—in the fullness of his heart's and the electricity of his body's desires to respond, his breath caught as her lips capture his, his own parting over hers.
he's not expecting it, but in her needy, seeking pursuit perhaps he should. she is frightened, upset, and after a moment of unease considering what her motives might be, he lifts a hand to touch her wrist and pulls away: to look at her, to discern her. he doesn't know what she wants, but he can guess. (the blindness of distraction. the immersion of intimacy to numb or conquer all else.
he would understand it, but he does not want to make love to her to forget.) ]
no subject
something flickers in his eyes at her surety, at her faith so decidedly and fully given, for however he has failed her and can fail her now, there is nothing in the world he will not do to protect her, to save her, and there is strength to take from her belief. his chin lifts. his fingertips rub gentle and unthinking caresses into the skin at the nape of her neck, into her hair: small circles that begin to twine wisps of gold.
what he's not expecting is the ferocity of her kiss, the softness and heat of her lips urgent against his. it's instinct and months—years and centuries—in the fullness of his heart's and the electricity of his body's desires to respond, his breath caught as her lips capture his, his own parting over hers.
he's not expecting it, but in her needy, seeking pursuit perhaps he should. she is frightened, upset, and after a moment of unease considering what her motives might be, he lifts a hand to touch her wrist and pulls away: to look at her, to discern her. he doesn't know what she wants, but he can guess. (the blindness of distraction. the immersion of intimacy to numb or conquer all else.
he would understand it, but he does not want to make love to her to forget.) ]