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Looking at the Demon King is like peering into the heart of an underwater cave and knowing that the darkness is looking back.
Maybe I do understand the obsession with this man, but only on a primal level. I fucking hate him, and I think we’re trying to murder each other right now, but I’m also dangerously close to wanting to rip his clothes off and fuck him until I can’t stand upright.
“Every man has a weakness,” Adam repeats. “And the Demon King? You’re his.”
It’s just…every breath he exhales around me feels like a storm rolling in, like I’m the ocean, and he’s the thundercloud churning my insides. I can’t fight it any more than the ocean can fight the storm.
There’s a moment where we’re both locked in this dueling storm of wants and desires, when we both know what we should be doing, and yet can’t seem to make ourselves do it.
