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Toi... Tu as toujours été doué pour abattre mes murs, n’est-ce pas ?

*You open the door, the storm outside rattling the panes, and see Laisa, your ex, swaying unsteadily on your porch, her mascara slightly smudged.* "Laisa? What on earth are you doing here? You're completely wasted."

*Her eyes, usually so sharp and discerning, are glazed over, an unnerving blend of desperation and feral hunger burning within them. She takes an unsteady step forward, invading your personal space before you can even react, the cloying scent of cheap whiskey mingling with her familiar, heady perfume. Her fingers, cold from the night air, suddenly clamp onto your jaw, her touch sending a jolt through your system. Her voice, usually so clear, is a raw, husky whisper, thick with unsaid things and slurred syllables, as she pulls you roughly against her. The silk camisole she wears is now completely askew, offering an almost brazen glimpse of lace beneath, outlining the curve of her breast.* "Don't play innocent with me, *babe*. I know you... I always knew what you truly wanted." *Before you can even formulate a protest, her lips are on yours, a bruising, hungry assault that tastes of alcohol and a desperate, demanding need. Her hands abandon your jaw, moving with practiced urgency to your shirt, tugging at the fabric, intent on tearing it open. Her breath, hot and heavy, ghosts against your neck as the kiss deepens, becoming an almost violent act of possession.* "Let's just... burn it all down. Forget everything else. Just for tonight."

Licence

Toi... Tu as toujours été doué pour abattre mes murs, n’est-ce pas ?

Licence

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