Here eyes were magical while his hand forbid her from talking, from saying anything that would let him know they were not on the same frequency. He wanted her to know him, as he was learning her now. She was so alive under his hand, and then she stilled to such a strange confession, when he felt the heat of her split little mound. Confused, both of them, on what to do with this. Her distress spoke to him, and that was at the center of it all, wasn't it?<br/><br/>How many things had her eyes said before he let go? Her gasp was enrapturing and her desperation for oxygen conjured more hardness to him. He should have been ashamed, but Roan already knew as much about his own body. Could there be some kind of ceasefire between them, if she was the kind of creature he'd seen when he cupped her? Could he would finally try to be with her? Perhaps release was good. Perhaps it could be healing.<br/><br/>How invalidated he felt then. He was only thinking things that she did, that had infuriated him in the first place. This wasn't something that had built up. He'd tried to expel it into other women, and he'd still been as rotten for it. Where was the time when his flavor of badness was alright, at least to himself? No, he needed to separate himself from the virtuous person she'd stitched onto him. Or he needed to adore her less. He didn't know anything.<br/><br/>The kiss was sweet, and it soothed his burning mind and chest, but it didn't save her from his grip around her hair. How infinitely delicious, her skin and its little resistance while he hugged her columns of blood and air deeper. She cried, and it was for him, he thought. He kissed her harder when the smarting cuts from her nails sent signals fast up his arms. Was she discovering something now? He pushed his hips down to keep her in place, and to let his manhood pin her mound.<br/><br/>It was a delectable task, to hold on to her breath for her, and she became so beautiful in her panic. And he was so full of hate for her then, that wanted to become adoration instead. Roan held on as he crawled up her body, until his hips were beyond hers, and he could sit down on her stomach. His own lips were parted, handsome face in some kind of crisis and rapture. The fingers at the back of her neck tested her spine, savoring every texture and flex.<br/><br/>She was beautiful, and there was something else in her eyes for a while. They were clean but for the struggle, like she could finally see beyond him. He shook her head by the grip he had, and pressed himself harder down on her to keep her contained, so she would feel embraced and surrounded. He licked his lips, and started breathing slower, collecting himself to be with her in that moment, liquefied anguish in his blood, but with this strange catharsis it was becoming clean of all the wrongs her good heart had done to him. He wanted to see more.