Larksong Grotto white fog

not now.

it was like a trigger, that simple phrase. something shifted in lousine and she truly felt it, a coiling sparking stream of colors behind her eyelids, a hot rush in her veins. her cheeks grew warm.

will you stay? she suddenly asked him — it surprised even her and she showed it, her eyes popping open the same way they had when he'd first approached. she wasn't sure why she said it but she didn't regret it. she wanted it. wanted him to stay.

the way she straightened and leaned closer, gaze locked upon the sweep of his tongue over his dark lips, spoke the rest for her: please.