Your dead end dreams don't make you smile

There had been days before this, days spent toying with the hearts of boys and the bodies of other children. Dove had been known for hiking her proverbial skirt for a look-see, but never satisfying the desires that came forth from such encounters. She played the game of the harlot well; never giving in, never letting anyone do what Jaws was about to do. But in the days since coming to the wilds, a change had occurred. It was a natural change and one she could not fight, nor truly understand. It was this fundamental difference in her biology which made him the victor - leaving her gasping, crippled by their union, and sinking to the grass below.

He knew what he was doing and there were moments, brief and fleeting, where Dove regretted things; however, her emotions were tumultuous. Her blood was pumping from the run, her skin was burning from his touch, and soon there was only a sense of stillness — the realization that the game had come to an end. That this was no boy fit to be her toy, but a man, and she had given herself over to him.

With the deed done, there was no longer a fire to stoke within her. Those emotions ebbed, leaving Dove to recover in the grass, empty but... Not a bad sort of empty. She did not know what would come of this. Being as naive as she was, Dove did not think that their union could result in anything - it was a brief affair. A one-night-stand beneath the spotlight of the sun. And with him dislodged from her, they could go their separate ways. Ships passing in the light.

When her breath returned to a calm pace and her pulse no longer burning through her veins, Dove rose up and turned to regard him - but the look was fleeting, too. She saw the rogue as nothing now. A stranger, as he was meant to be. She had been satisfied and his job was done. Without a word, she began to walk back up the hill.