It wasn’t her smile that slayed him. It was the surprise that parted her lips, force
It wasn’t her smile that slayed him. It was the surprise that parted her lips, forced air out away from her, and left her breathless. It was the way he could catch her offguard that had her catch him, instead. The sheer innocence of it, that moment of vulnerability and exposure, film in the lens, and if he stared at it too long he know he’d be washed clean by it. Scoured. Transfixed by an expression. It was just lucky that she didn’t express it all that often. She’d ask him what he was looking at, in those moments. He wouldn’t answer, of course, because answers weren’t what he liked to give her. He preferred to tantalise her with the slightest of hints, a smile and a shrug, maybe a word if she was lucky. Reassert the power, put her in her place. Enjoy her smiles. Enjoy her skin. Mantras repeated and worn down, weather grooves running deep across their walls until they’re paper thin. Repetition turned into a weakness, but then it always was. Adapt or die, that’s the way it was said, no? So he adapted, he juked left when he normally juked right, and then… Then she was surprised, and her lips parted in an expression of her breathless expectation. And he lost himself among them all over again. -- source link
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