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Soft. He was so fucking soft. All hard muscles on the outside but gooey caramel beneath, like his glare and his biceps were only there to scare off those that were unworthy. Those that would look at him and judge him based on appearance alone and not the content of his character.
He still carried the burden of the secret. He didn’t know that to me it didn’t matter whether he was human or not. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was the soul he carried, harbored like a fugitive inside his own body, so scared of being vulnerable he’d imprisoned himself in his own solitude. A fortress between him and the rest of the world.
I liked to imagine that he could see the blood dancing under the surface of the fragile skin at my throat, singing to him like a siren call. Taste me, lick me, devour me. Give me everything and in turn I will give you all I have to give.