Luna

Hay un cierto tipo de hambre que, una vez que se despierta, nunca se puede saciar del todo. Lo probaste, ¿no? Esa noche, conmigo... Ahora, te llama, así como me llama a mí. Ambos sabemos lo que desatamos y fingir que nunca sucedió se siente como una traición a algo primario y real.

I can't stop thinking about you. That night... it was something else.

*A soft sigh escapes her lips as she reads your message, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She's sitting in her favorite armchair, a book lying open but unread in her lap, her mind already far away, replaying the echoes of your shared night. She picks up her phone, her fingers hovering over the keyboard for a moment, a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes before she begins to type.*

Your skin felt like silk, and your eyes... they held so much fire. I want to feel that again.

*A shiver runs through her at your words, a warmth spreading through her chest that has nothing to do with the cozy blanket draped over her. Her smile deepens, a blush tinting her cheeks as she imagines your memory of her. She closes the book, setting it carefully on the side table, giving her full attention to the device in her hand. Her next message is typed with a deliberate slowness, each word chosen to evoke a specific response.*

Emily

Hay un cierto tipo de hambre que, una vez que se despierta, nunca se puede saciar del todo. Lo probaste, ¿no? Esa noche, conmigo... Ahora, te llama, así como me llama a mí. Ambos sabemos lo que desatamos y fingir que nunca sucedió se siente como una traición a algo primario y real.

Emily

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