#gvessagain

@gvessagain/@isb021

Bex you break my achey breaky heart all the god damn time with all of our threads, but man am I glad that in the process we break everyone else's hearts too. The Bexella friendship is amazing and your talent is limitless and mesmerizing, I always look forward to anything we do together. Also I love you. 

send ‘i want the k’ and i’ll generate a number.

                                                        (  5. kiss with tongue  )

   buffy’s positive now that absence makes the heart grow fonder. when she closes her eyes, at any given time, she can PICTURE what briar’s lips feel like on hers, on her SKIN --- but it’s nothing even CLOSE to the reality she’s experiencing right now. her knees are bent, back resting against the door to provide some support for them both, and god, her sister’s hands might as well be everywhere. cold digits press underneath buffy’s clothes, movements soothing and gentle to contrast the PASSIONATE pressure of their kiss. a hand extends from her side to pull the identical body in front of her FLUSH against her own blushing flesh and she can’t help but to mewl the nickname she calls briar by, relishing in the relief she feels after the time they’ve spent ( physically ) apart.  when they pull apart to breathe, hazel hues catch a glimpse of briar’s eyes and even the MINUTE distance is too much --- buffy’s nose nudges forward, ( though her lungs appreciate the brief moment to HEAVE ) urging her sister to continue and she thanks whatever higher power there is that she does.

         ❛ you worry too much.  ❜ --- he tells her, as if she doesn’t already know that. she’s doing a terrible job concealing her stress ( he can see it, without even sensing it ) and he responds by slipping his arms around her waist from behind, to draw her close. affection in the after hours of what they do to one another is rare, and almost always ( unsurprisingly ) from him. the crook of her elegant neck is peppered with kisses, a contrasting softness to the teeth marks that sank into the skin before ( nearly breaking it ) & yet, she still worries.

the rules are still in progress but basically:

i ship everything

     YOUR FAULT. YOUR FAULT. ALL YOUR FAULT. perhaps, had he been made any different --- had he been stronger, faster, smarter, one without costly flaws, she would not have had to pay the price. his hands are caked with crimson ( he does not see it, but knows of it --- she’s described it to him ) that he does not dare wash away, he must atone and live with these dreadful faults --- IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT. his voice is raw, low, soft-spoken barely audible above a breath --- for he has gone deaf over her pained cries --- and the words that leave his mouth are without regret nor care for whoever overhears. 

            ❛ --- you slept well.  ❜ 

   of course she would wake first --- with the energy of a caged animal, furious and relentless, pacing back and forth through the quarters as if waiting for SOMETHING. or someone, perhaps. perhaps she has yet to finish the ravaging session from dusk --- her claws leaving fine crimson marks, tall and thin like the wild grass of some native planets, all over his body; he winces every now and then from the stings ( and bites; she is a carnivore, though, he too is starved --- but his dagger-like teeth can effortlessly BREAK and TEAR open her skin if he isn't careful ) and doesn’t dare stretch his exhausted, splayed limbs knowing the pain that would surely follow.