[ he sneers, his breath cascading warm against her ear — ] No, I beat off to the pictures of you that make it in the papers.
[ does he actually? it’s more likely than you think, especially when ash looks so fucking regal in them himself, and embry’s favorite pastime is self-flagellating by his lonesome. both of his hands move to her shoulders now, fingers pressing expertly into worn muscles, his thumbs dragging down the soft skin along the nape of her neck as he briefly lapses into silence. he moves the satiny fabric of her gown down her pearly skin so he can knead into her shoulder blades. ]
He’s my brother. I have a right to ask. [ moody. he’s well aware the bottle of gin by the bed is half empty, drained in the time he was listening to rough groans and slapping skin. ] He spends all his time with you now.
[ ash and anora. it sounds so perfect it makes him want to throw up. at least the magazines don’t use his nickname, reserved only for his close friends and family. maxen and anora sounds fucking stupid. ]
Which one’s your favorite? [ he gestures with his chin toward the bowls, looking over her shoulder again while his fingers card through her inky hair, fingertips scratching lazily. ] Or I can get three more until you’re satisfied, if you give me your special requests.
no subject
[ does he actually? it’s more likely than you think, especially when ash looks so fucking regal in them himself, and embry’s favorite pastime is self-flagellating by his lonesome. both of his hands move to her shoulders now, fingers pressing expertly into worn muscles, his thumbs dragging down the soft skin along the nape of her neck as he briefly lapses into silence. he moves the satiny fabric of her gown down her pearly skin so he can knead into her shoulder blades. ]
He’s my brother. I have a right to ask. [ moody. he’s well aware the bottle of gin by the bed is half empty, drained in the time he was listening to rough groans and slapping skin. ] He spends all his time with you now.
[ ash and anora. it sounds so perfect it makes him want to throw up. at least the magazines don’t use his nickname, reserved only for his close friends and family. maxen and anora sounds fucking stupid. ]
Which one’s your favorite? [ he gestures with his chin toward the bowls, looking over her shoulder again while his fingers card through her inky hair, fingertips scratching lazily. ] Or I can get three more until you’re satisfied, if you give me your special requests.