Where did you go?The best thing about Caleb is that in the early hours, and in the mornings, he is a different cut, affectionate and loving, gentle and kind. There's something about the remains of the day poisoning his blood, making him crazy, making him seek out someone to punish, usually himself if you stay out of his way. You, if you get in it. His soul will come pouring out to suffocate you. He is the very definition of tormented.
You're still in my mind
Still light of May
Shone from your eyes
Can you see this out?
Can you see this out?
Or maybe he's just afraid of the dark. I don't dare ask as his arms slide around my back, pulling me in close against him. I feel him exhale against me, clutching me tight, kissing my hair, my face, my neck, forcing my face up so he can kiss underneath my jawline before landing on the prize of my lips.
You're here.
You're awake.
I heard you in the hall.
Good ears, holy.
I can sense you, that's all.
He smiles against my mouth, here in the predawn, and I close my eyes. It's like being locked in a vise. It's a different kind of affection from the physically strongest person I know.
Stay until morning. Please, Neamhchiontach.
I nod and his arms tighten, rolling me onto my back, my face forced up once again as he kisses down my throat, pulling his arms out to work at taking off my clothes. Once he has enough things off he pulls me back up against him, biting my lower lip gently on his way past, jutting his chin against the top of my head, hurting beautifully.
He does not stop until I shudder against him and then he relaxes just enough, not letting go. I am asleep in seconds, breathing evenly against his shoulder and the last thing I hear is his usual whisper before I go under. Is tú mo ghrá-
Níl, Diabhal.
When I wake up the spell is broken, the bitterness of the new day beginning to seep back in around the edges with the petrichor.
Go back to your love. Get out. English, so there's no mistake.