@northliights sent: {size} sender measures the size of their hand against receiver's. ( canon verse)
There's something listening outside, fingers of shadow and fear creep beneath the bedroom door that has been firmly shut against things lingering in the hall... a nameless lump in the back of his throat, a slowly rising panic that flashed through their waiter's eyes at dinner and grabbed at the hem of coats as they as they walked home along an otherwise fairly quiet street. The disquiet sets his teeth on edge, jaw aching by the time they make it to his flat, and as he opens the door to the third floor walk up Lucas can feel an exhale of breath disguised as a wisp of breeze along the nape of his neck. He ignores it, digs graves while Aurora's mouth presses against his own and buries the unwanted memories through the articles of clothing that mark the path to his bedroom.
She's beautiful, a pale and radiant light that cuts through cobwebbed shadows and suddenly every Greek tragedy he's ever read makes sense. She is Aphrodite, Helen of Troy, the apple that Adam chose over paradise and, for tonight, she is his. The tip of his nose nuzzles against her temple and Lucas takes a deep breath, wondering if this is what people mean when they talk about saved souls and all that. It's easy to be good when he's with her, easy to forget the part he's played and let old bones stretch from their crypts, and he wonders if she can feel the way his fingers shake as they trace the line of her neck and the curve of a breast.
The warmth of her welcomes him, her voice in his ear chasing away the things that gnash their teeth in the dark, each grip of thighs and sharp sting of nails a reminder that he's been deemed lucky enough to bathe in an endless sun. Afterwards, he stays beside her .. sweat damp skin clinging to the sheets and legs tangled together as blue eyes watch the steady rise and fall of her chest. He hears the wolves waiting outside his door and it's an easy thing to slide out from beneath the haven of blankets and away from the familiar press of Aurora's body against his own, an easy thing to pull on a crumpled pair of trousers found in a corner and slip outside into the cool dark of the hall lest the demons after him turn their hunger towards her as well.
He's not sure how long he waits, the small of his back pressed against the edge of a kitchen countertop and eyes half closed in some semblance of a doze...but eventually whatever threat he felt is gone, shadows chased away by the encroaching promise of dawn.. and Lucas finds his way back to bed and Aurora's side. She opens her eyes as he slips beside her once more, blinking against the shock of sudden cold that is his arm brushing across her ribs and Lucas shifts slightly, mouth opening to deliver an apology, some explanation for leaving her alone... but slender fingers envelop one of his wrists, the ticklish touch of a nail against his tattoo sending a flare of awareness through him, and he watches with a twitch in the corner of his lips as she pulls his hand away from the sheets and closer towards her. He watches as she explores the sensitive skin of his palm, fingers stretching out along his own, hand pressing against hand.. and can't help the low rumble of threatening laughter at the way hers comes up decidedly short.
There are a thousand things he wants to say, a thousand hopes that the agent wishes he could make her understand .. but instead he simply closes his fingers until they overlap Aurora's own, squeezing a promise into her very knuckles before pressing his lips against the sensitive patch of skin along her inner wrist.
She is Aphrodite, Helen of troy, an ever dawning sun ... she is his home.
