Give Me Everything - Tumblr Posts
When Bridgerton fans want to talk potential soundtracks but you don’t actually know any of Taylor Swift’s music like that.
Ok, let's be honest for a moment, was it just me who didn't remember that the carriage scene song was originally a Pitbull song? Cause I watched that whole scene like "omg I can't believe they used a Pitch Perfect song to do this"
THE WAY I WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT SANA @sweetieguk
me, desperate for some writer friends/mutuals
hi everyone!
this is just a post where writers get to know writers, and hopefully through reblogs/comments we can find more people who not only read/write our genre, but just people who have similarities with us.
it's kind of a simple "get to know me" post, and anyone can join <3 if you want to know more about me and my works, check out my writblr intro!
feel free to tag your mutuals and reblog !!
name: pronouns: genres you like to write in: genres you like to read in + fav books/media: favorite line from your current wip:
name: ave
pronouns: she/her
genres you like to write in: currently writing contemporary (ya/romcom/romance, give me them ALL), but I also like to dabble in fantasy!
genres you like to read in + fav books/media: i'll consume literally anything haha. Fantasy, mystery, historical fiction, romance, young adult, you name it. I'm awful with horror, though ;-;
percy jackson (MY CHILDHOOD), harry potter (OBVIOUSLY), Better Than the Movies, From Lukov with Love, The Love Hypothesis, These Violent Delights, the list goes on...
favorite or latest line from your current wip: [from Destination Seoul]
“How can I?” I mutter, leaning back in my chair. “Even I know when a relationship is over. Especially because I ended it. Besides…”
What is your favorite kind of pet to own?
I wish I could add more answers, but you know I'll be reading all the tags 👀
Feel free to gush about your critters in the tags and replies :3 🧡❤️🩷
wow wow wow this was absolutely AMAZING
i’m in love, i can’t say more, i have no words
❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. ❞
KINKTOBER WEEK TWO.
⤿ pairing(s): halbrand!sauron x fem!human!reader.
⤿ word count: 4.6K.
⤿ warnings: smut (mdni), porn without plot, mild manipulation (it’s sauron), risk of getting caught, possessiveness, sex in a public location, fingering (fem!rec), heavy kissing, hair-pulling, scratching, begging, unprotected sex, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, sex on a table.
⤿ note: first time writing for sauron, please be gentle! mr. tolkien, so sorry for all of the despicable things I’m gonna be writing about your characters. ❤️ thank you all for reading! reblogs & comments are appreciated!
A salt-tinged breeze stirred through the forges, a welcome gust of relief amidst the heat that sought to blaze his flesh asunder.
In the silence of dusk, Halbrand found his solace with hammer and anvil, over that of indulgence of drink at some tavern.
Númenor proved to be the respite he desperately needed, running from a shadowed past. He worked tirelessly, through lengthy days and well into the night, his mind a tumultuous tempest.
The King of the Southlands — the ruler of nothing.
It was a mantle that wholly disinterested him, and despite his numerous protests to Galadriel regarding his supposed heritage, the she-elf refused to let it stay dead and buried. He was better off here, crafting works of art — blades, armor, jewelry.
There was nothing for him now, only threads of a plan that seemed to fall by the wayside. It was easy to disappear here, to fade away into the backdrop of the oceanside kingdom, allow himself to place all his efforts on smithing.
The roaring embers of the forge sizzled as he placed the partially-finished blade inside, molding metal to his skilled hand. There was no greater joy than that of creation — making something out of nothing, a tool to be used.
Halbrand’s gaze momentarily flickered toward the roll of parchment sitting along one of the many craftsmen’s tables.
You were an envoy of Númenor, the brood of a lesser House of Men, in-service to the Guild. It was you that had uncovered records of the Southlander line and brought it to Galadriel’s attention — a clever creature, you were.
In what handful of interactions he’d had with you, you were studious and well-mannered, far too intelligent for your station. You toiled in-service to lesser beings, when your potential extended far beyond their reach.
The scroll contained the very bloodline you had presumed he hailed from, as if you were dangling the proof for all to see. He cared little for it, preoccupied with the task at-hand.
If it were his choice, he preferred to stay in Númenor, learn their customs and assimilate into their culture. Galadriel’s stubbornness had the potential to win out if he weren’t careful, and Halbrand was not the subservient sort.
In the star-riddled dusk, Halbrand decided to break in his crafting, stepping toward a basin of water, letting the cool liquid wash away the perspiration dotting his brow.
It was better at twilight, offering a solace that one might not fully understand. He rarely slept, and when he did, he was often plagued by dreams of constant rage. Halbrand let the forge simmer down, opting to work on the still-hot sword.
A gentle tap of knuckles against the door did not alert him as much as you thought it would. He stood with his back to you, brows furrowed together in concentration. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He questioned.
Greeted by the stifling, ember-fueled heat of the forge, you stood in the doorway, having abandoned your Guild regalia. “Good eve,” You mustered a smile, hands twisting together. “You are a stranger to rest, it seems.”
“As are you,” Halbrand’s steely gaze flickered from the blade to you, letting the hammer swing down upon forming steel. “Is it safe for you to be wandering about at nightfall?”
His sharp inquiry brought you pause, fingers idly toying with the fabric of your dress. Númenor was perfectly safe — safer than most kingdoms of Men. “Should it not be safe?” Countering his remark, you observed the rack of newly-crafted swords.
Halbrand did not offer an answer right away, turning the blade over, striking it again with his hammer as sparks flew. “There is no such thing as true safety, my Lady. There will always be something stirring in the shadows.”
You nearly laughed at his fearmongering — he sounded akin to an old maiden, weaving her intricate tales of fright to dissuade children from wrongdoing. “That is a rather dour sentiment. Are you often paranoid?” Your tone tapered off into one of mild amusement.
A sardonic scoff escaped him, lips quirking up only slightly, yet he did not seem offended by your retort. “Merely concerned with preservation — my own, first and foremost.” He replied.
He knew why you were here, even if it was an unspoken thing that you continued to dance around. You had come as a messenger on behalf of Galadriel, to make a valiant attempt of convincing him to return to Middle-Earth.
“The Guild is impressed by your craft,” Shifting the topic, you brushed your fingers over the horse-shaped pommel, the color of ivory. “Not that I should be divulging that information.” You mused.
Perplexed, Halbrand wordlessly observed you, cerulean hues studying the creases of your dress, a shade of mauve that only seemed to enhance your beauty. There was something forlorn simmering within him, feelings not often brought to the surface.
“Is that so? It seems that they’ve finally come to their senses,” He jested, earning a pointed look from you. “It took a beating to do so.” Halbrand placed the unfinished blade beside the dying embers of the forge.
There was still mild bruising around his nose and mouth, heated transgressions that earned him the ire of Númenor. He seemed unperturbed, seizing a rag from the edge of an anvil.
“That could’ve been avoided,” You murmured, tracing a digit around the ivory head of a horse before stepping away. “You are fortunate that they did not toss you into the seas for your rancor.”
“That would be rather unfortunate, being tossed back into the ocean when I had worked tirelessly to claw my way out of it.” He quipped, moving about the forge as he hung up his tools.
A soft sigh escaped you as you shook your head, peering outside towards the night skies. “If you wish to stay in Númenor, you must cease drawing attention to yourself.”
Halbrand chuckled, the sound devoid of any mirth. It was a steely sound, more sardonic than genuine. He wiped away at the soot and grime of the forge, leaning back against the sturdy table.
“Is this amusing to you, being tossed into a cell and brawling with the locals?” The sharp bite of your inquiry could’ve been mistaken for the edge of a knife. “You are above that.”
“And if I am not?” He was equally as sharp, that of a longsword, tarnished and worn yet still able to cut with ease. Halbrand’s countenance seemed unmistakably soured by your comment.
Taken aback, you turned to face him fully, canting your head to one side. It was not mock frustration that you found in his features — it was true. “What do you mean?”
“You continue to place me upon some pedestal,” Halbrand scoffed, peering elsewhere, gazing at the hot coals of the forge. “What if I am not what you think me to be? What if I am simply a Man with not a drop of nobility to his name?”
With a furrowed brow, you folded your hands together, studying his visage. He seemed frustrated yet forlorn, as if he were remembering something — lamenting, perhaps. “Then you are a Man.”
In the time that you had gotten to know Halbrand, standing alongside Captain Elendil on the ship back to Númenor, he was something of an enigma. Charming and charismatic with a great love of disobedience, but he possessed a veiled depth.
Galadriel seemed far more preoccupied with returning to Middle-Earth and hunting Sauron, making Halbrand a ruler over considering his feelings. If he wanted to stay in Númenor, craft a new existence — you did not blame him.
“And if I am not the man that you believe I am?” Halbrand pressed, as if seeking a certain answer from you. Some sliver of his being wanted someone to tell him that they cared little about his past, what he used to be.
“Whatever you are insinuating, I care little for it. Your past does not make you — only what you do from this moment forward,” You replied, mustering a gentle smile. “You are Halbrand — that is enough for me.”
If the She-elf had it her way, she would drag him back to Middle-Earth, writhing and screaming. In his own web of schemes, it was what was necessary — but time was infinite.
There was a peculiar gleam within your eyes, one that possessed a warmth and understanding that he was vastly unaccustomed to. “Hm,” He sighed, turning the cloth over within his hand. “Thank you.”
A brief laugh tore past your lips, one that seemed to bring the tension to a momentary heel. “What, for dissuading you against further scorn by the local populace?” You mused.
Halbrand happened to chuckle at that, a warm sound that made residence within your stomach, butterflies following suit. “For understanding, for your kindness,” He replied, his tone softening. “Not many possess your tenderness.”
Growing silent, you nodded, attempting to mask the brief glimmer of surprise that fluttered across your features. You were often regarded as level-headed and sage, yet soft when it mattered most.
“I do not wish to see you thrown in a cell again, or exiled from the Guild when you clearly possess a wealth of talent,” Your motives transcended that — part of you liked Halbrand. “I would do the same for anyone in your position.”
“Would you?” Halbrand’s inquiry, whilst outwardly inquisitive, seemed tinged with something unfamiliar — something amorous. Your nerves became set ablaze, skin uncomfortably warm.
As you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, Halbrand straightened, copper-hued locks framing his rugged face. He was handsome — statuesque, clearly carved with the frame of a warrior and a smith.
“Yes,” Hoarse and pitched with the sudden swell of nervousness, you idly toyed with the sleeves of your dress. “If you are to stay in Númenor, I would hope that you only continue to thrive with your craft.”
This craft was of little interest — Halbrand knew what he wanted, starting with you. Malleable like the finest metal, as beautiful as a glittering opal socketed into that of a signet.
“Is that what you want, for me to stay in Númenor?” Seas help you — this was madness. Halbrand’s poignant question made you wonder what exactly was about to happen, gooseflesh icing your spine, prompting you to shiver.
“What I want matters little,” There was a noticeable lack of conviction within your tone, as if you were convincing yourself of that very fact. “You are free to choose your destiny.”
You were fighting against the urge, the untoward craving that began to settle within your bones. It wasn’t proper nor appropriate of you to even consider wanting Halbrand, a man whose fate seemed far more important than your own.
To ask him to stay in Númenor, abandon the Southlands — you did not have the heart. It was born of greed and desire, wanting to keep him close to your chest.
“It matters to me,” Halbrand murmured, brows creasing together as he glowered down upon you, close enough to touch. “What do you want?” The malignant force deep within him begged to bring you into his stead.
Whatever perceived darkness hungered within you, it also screamed within him, with a shadow far more powerful than your own. Greed was unbecoming of you — you were meant to serve the people of Númenor, never yourself.
Whereas Galadriel possessed a fierce heart and unending thirst for vengeance, you longed to be free — no longer under the thumb of lesser Men, to lead and to be revered.
To be loved, to be coveted.
“Do not leave,” A plea, beseeching him to stay in Númenor, to stoke whatever flame was stirring between the both of you. The intensity of his longing stare nearly made you collapse. “Stay here, in Númenor.”
A hitch formed within your throat as his calloused fingertips graced your arm, tracing over the sea of mauve gossamer that clung to your form. Halbrand took your silence as something contemplative, afraid to make your true feelings known.
Again, he pressed closer, looming above you, caging you in against the table. You could feel his heat, smell the coal and metal, taste the fantasy that swirled within your mind’s eye.
Roughened digits caressed across your throat, over your slender neck, your collarbone. His touch was like that of a fire, a burn so wonderful that you would beg for it if you had to.
“Halbrand,” Barely above a whisper, your tone seemed strained, as if fighting against all of your baser urges. A peculiar heat raked its way across your flesh before settling within the pit of your belly. “I shouldn’t.”
“Do you think that you are the only one who possesses desire?” His wanton confession made your knees buckle, lips parting just enough for a soft gasp to escape you. “When my eyes found you upon that ship, I wanted — more than I have for some time.”
Words turned to ash upon your tongue, dying then and there within your throat. There was a fire within Halbrand’s eyes, one that sought to burn you, too. You felt the small of your back dig into the table, warmth licking across your spine.
Each breath felt labored, a dizzying sensation taking hold of you, as if this were more dream than reality. Yet, Halbrand remained close to you, chest-to-chest, digits finding the swell of your hip through the sea of violet fabric.
Instead of vocalizing your festering worry, you rocked up upon your toes, pressing your lips against his own. It was disarmingly gentle, a sheepish kiss that did not waste a second in becoming heated and charged.
He reciprocated with a blinding intensity, arm hitching around your waist, calloused palm spreading out against your back. Halbrand lifted you closer, his kiss inherently greedy and covetous, as if you belonged only to him.
His mouth swirled with wildfire, tasting of smoke and a hint of Númenorian stout, stubble scratching against your soft skin. Your hands found their purchase against his chest, able to feel the taut muscle beneath.
Hardened was a good way to describe him — rugged like the uneven ridges of tanned leather, swathed in heat. He cupped your jaw with his hand, reveling in the sensation of your flesh, akin to a plane of silk.
The state of dishevelment he was in mattered little to you — the soot upon his tanned flesh, the specks of dirt, garb somewhat tattered. You could not recall the last time you had yearned for someone so terribly that it ripped your heart into two.
Each clash of your lips evoked a pang of excitement that struck at your stomach, exhilaration pumping through your veins. Halbrand was a vigorous kisser — passionate and swift, stealing the air from your very lungs.
His palm slowly caressed from the small of your back toward your derrière, strong digits melding themselves into your clothed flesh. A hitch formed within your throat, anticipation mounting as the tension began to cloud the room.
Your digits possessed a mind of their own, climbing towards the nape of his neck, threading themselves through his bronze tresses. Halbrand kissed you again — softer this time, yet not without his domineering edge.
Lips bled into one another with an outpouring of want, a long-repressed sentiment caged within both hearts. Halbrand wanted many things — yet, what he did not expect was to crawl after you like some starving beast.
Every sensible thought seemed mulled, draped in this haze that clouded your mind. As you slowly recoiled from the kiss, you keened into the rough embrace of his palm, his digits cupping your cheek.
As much as you longed to continue, the locale seemed impractical, if not somewhat reckless. If someone were to catch you, you would never hear the end of it. Even then, you did not want to let fear drive you this way.
“Must I profess my desire once more?” Halbrand murmured, warm breath fanning across your visage, tinged with smoke. There was something tantalizing and enigmatic about him, swirling with some edge of mystique.
“I wouldn’t protest,” You whispered, which earned you the beginnings of a smile. He swept your tresses aside, bearing your neck to him as he bent in to kiss the soft flesh there. “Halbrand.” A low whine escaped you.
Stubble prickled and bit at your neck, yet you reveled in it, clutching at his shoulder as he pressed heated kisses to your throat. He was not hesitant in the slightest, letting you writhe and moan, plead for him to continue.
It was then that he began to gather your dress with one hand, firmly gripping at the mauve fabric as he inched it upward. Exhilaration struck at you again, the buzz of excitement, a thrill that you hadn’t experienced before.
There was not an inkling of hesitation from you, with little sign of stopping his advances. As he guided the gossamer along your legs, one palm snaked forth, calloused digits embracing your thigh, as smooth as silk.
He held little recollection of the last time he had touched something so delicate, as if you were some splendid jewel to be cradled, coveted. Halbrand kissed his way toward the curve of your jaw, searching your visage for a reaction.
As he parted your legs with his frame alone, your breath hitched, an audible noise that he found to be delicious. You were akin to some startled rabbit, ensnared within the jaws of a predator disguised as a friend.
Whatever smallclothes you wore beneath were of little consequence, giving way to that of his possessive embrace. Your hand flew back to grip the edge of the table, nails digging into splintered wood as he sought the heat between your legs.
Anticipation swelled within you, teetering on the edge of unraveling as you felt his digits ghost across your aching cunt. It was feather-light, intended to torment you — and torment it did.
“Halbrand,” A desperate gasp tore past your lips, needing him in a way that you hadn’t desired anyone else before. “Please, please touch me.” Your breathy pleas did not go unheard as he planted a kiss against your neck.
“Is that what you want?” A sultry purr rumbled from the depths of his chest, tone adopting a rather promiscuous resonance. He watched you nod several times over, fingers pushing past your petals as he touched your core.
A hand held onto his bicep for stability, the other haplessly fisting at the wood behind you. A moan emanated from you, desperate for anything he would give you.
Much to his delight, he found that you were shamelessly wet between your thighs, a nectar that refused to cease. “You are beautiful like this.” He murmured, fingers toying with your slit, eliciting another strangled moan from your lips.
Halbrand’s forehead brushed against yours, hawkish gaze absorbing the look of pleasure upon your face. He began to find a steady rhythm, worn digits sliding along the length of your cunt, letting you hold onto him as much as you pleased.
Any scrap of friction you received drove you mad, desperation climbing to new heights as your hips rocked forward into his hand. His stare became half-lidded, drinking you in with unabashed greed, longing to consume you.
Sighs of wanton passion drifted from you in droves, legs parted as he pressed his thumb to the pearl of your cunt. It was easy to evoke a reaction from you, the constant writhing, gasps and whines, the look of complete and utter bliss.
In sluggish circles, he caressed your clit, causing you to twitch again. “Halbrand,” A moan tore past your lips again, his name becoming a melody from your mouth, to be sung over and over again. “Do not stop, I beg you!”
“As you wish.” Halbrand’s voice raked hot embers over your body, reaching a salacious octave that turned your insides to molten liquid. He continued to touch your nethers, two digits sweeping toward your entrance.
An impenetrable heat swallowed your body whole, skin feeling damp with perspiration, somewhat in-part of the forge’s dissipating warmth. He continued to circle your clit, fingers lightly prodding at your cunt in an attempt to seek entry.
Rough lips fell to your neck again, gowns having slacked enough to give way to your shoulder and collarbone. You clawed at his bicep, rolling your hips again as you rocked yourself upon his digits, much to his delight.
With a brusque tug upon the collar of his tunic, your lips clamored for his, longing to feel his mouth. His kiss left you breathless, teeth scraping against your lower lip, bringing you to heel.
Heat pooled between your legs, coalescing upon Halbrand’s fingers as he teased your core, thumb working around the pearl of your cunt. A soft gasp tore through your throat, a moan escaping you into the passion of your kiss.
Again, your hips rolled into his hand, craving him in a way that resembled that of an animal; carnal, ravenous. A fire danced within his eyes, one that seemed to reflect the sentiments that festered within you.
“Give yourself to me.” Halbrand sighed, timbre trembling against the underside of your jaw before he looked upon you, unraveling from his touch. Need stirred within him, coupled with the swell of possessiveness.
He searched your countenance for any hint of hesitation, flicking his thumb across your clit once more. “Please.” You pleaded, waves of bliss rolling across your body, bringing with it a feverish heat that made you want him all the more.
Halbrand heeded your breathy plea, reaching for the leather ties of his trousers, wanting nothing more than you be inside of you. His cock twitched with amorous intent, muscles coiled, prepared to grab you.
His hand recoiled, leaving you with an aching emptiness that caused your cunt to clench pathetically around nothing. A hitch formed within your throat, words turning to ash as he lifted you onto the table.
Calloused, careworn palms kneaded into your haunches, grasping at your pliant flesh in fistfuls as he pressed his lips to your exposed shoulder. Rucking your gown up to your hips, Halbrand appraised you with a thinly-veiled lust.
There was no flesh as soft as yours, untouched — belonging to him. Anticipation churned within the pit of your stomach, lips agape as he unraveled the front of his breeches, freeing himself from its confines.
Flushed with a rush of ecstasy, Halbrand dragged you closer, hands traveling to cup your hips. He guided his length to your cunt, letting the tip of his cock linger there until he pushed forward.
“Halbrand!” You moaned, hand reaching to grasp at the nape of his neck, nails raking across his coppery tresses. The other seized his bicep, digging inward as he slowly rocked into you.
Nearly chest-to-chest, there was little room for discomfort, letting lust and urgency guide his hand. He huffed, steadying his ironclad hold upon your hips, fingers pressing hard enough to leave behind bruises.
His pace was agonizingly sluggish at first, drawing out each thrust in an effort to let you grow accustomed. Hot sighs of passion fluttered between the both of you, lips brushing over one another as he rolled his hips forward.
There was something exhilarating about coupling with you, the warmth of being alive, savoring the guise of mortality. Halbrand could see the attachment brewing within your stare, the glint of affection intermingled with desire.
The still-burning coals of the forge provided enough illumination for him to see you bathed in fire — and you were breathtaking.
Your heart pounded within your ribcage, so powerful that you thought it might burst through. His stubble scratched against your cheek, providing a pleasant burn that let you know that this was reality. “Move,” You moaned. “Please.”
Inclined to obey, Halbrand let his yearning for you show, as plain as a summer’s day. He began to thrust into you, hunching in and over, stabilizing himself with one palm flat atop the table.
The other squeezed incessantly at your hips, cock rocking in and out of you at a steady pace, yet the fervor was steadily increasing. Your head spun, clouded by lust as your paramour ravished you in the way that you deserved.
His countenance echoed your sentiments, shadowed with the haze of lust, a carnality that clawed at your very soul. You let your forehead press to his, brows screwed together in a state of bliss, grasping at his tresses.
Halbrand grunted, the low noise rippling through his chest as he held your thigh, digits clamping down to keep you firmly in-place. His cock throbbed with an ache of urgency, hips snapping forward as he filled you completely.
A moan erupted from your lips yet again, nails forming crimson crescents against his bicep, occasionally lurching forward to meet his thrusts halfway. His pace became somewhat erratic as he coaxed you to lay back.
Your back hit the wooden surface of the table, the uncomfortable bite of it all softened by parts of your dress. Halbrand hunched in over you like a wolf towering above prey, palm flat beside your head.
The groan of sturdy wood beneath your entangled bodies resonated throughout the forge, the heat beginning to dissipate. The warmth between breath and body kept you feeling feverish, and you hitched one leg around his hips.
It evoked another growl from his lips as the smith pounded away at you, keeping a firm and steady pace. Halbrand was rougher than some, but never enough to cause you discomfort or harm. He was invigorated, driven to madness by the sight of you.
He kissed you again, feeling your desperation through joined lips alone, your hand grasping at his toned forearm. Arousal mounted within you, as thick as honey oozing between your thighs.
Passion bled into need, the two tangling together into some fervent amalgamation. It showed in his movements, continuing to thrust into you, feeling your cunt clench around him. You were made for him, with a heart that he found as malleable as metal.
The arch of your back signaled that your release was swiftly approaching, keening into his embrace instead as you moaned. You did little to temper your volume, mouth agape, head rolled back — you were the picture of grace, now tarnished.
His name escaped your tongue like a wayward prayer, over and over again until it was the only word you knew. As his cock hit you again, sending shockwaves throughout your body, you came undone.
Your leg squeezed at his hips, feeling his own resolve crumble at the sight of you, disheveled because of his doing. Halbrand let out a sonorous groan, body nearly blanketed over yours as his cock slapped into you again.
The warmth you provided was enough to make him stay sheathed within you, spilling himself inside of you without thinking. It only served to fuel his possessiveness, as dangerous as a growing wildfire.
Rocking himself inside of you once more, you let out a strangled whine. Through labored pants, you slowly regained composure, feeling his hot breath fan out across your visage.
Halbrand pulled himself out of you, leaving behind the visceral remnants of your lewd exploits, the sheen of it coating the inside of your thighs. He noticed your sheepish expression as you corrected your garments.
“There isn’t anywhere you can go that I would not follow.” He uttered, fingertips tucking strands of hair behind your ear. As you moved from the table, the smith reached for something within the pocket of his trousers.
“Halbrand,” You began, knowing that asking him to stay in Númenor was not fair — to either of you. Perhaps you could enjoy what comfort he brought, for the time being. “I shouldn’t ask it of you.”
“No matter what destiny entails, know that you belong to me.” There was something strangely dark within his tone, disguised as affection — you were oblivious to it. He placed something into your joined hands.
Touched by such a sentimental gesture, you flourished in the aftermath of your coupling, feeling his rough lips press against the curve of your jaw. You shivered, feeling the weight of a trinket within your palm.
Your lips sought his, the kiss lingering, enough for you to feel it burn within your very soul. There was nothing that could describe whatever it was you felt for him, felt with him.
“What is it?” You inquired, warmth raking along your spine, faces brushing against one another. Halbrand lingered pensively, a smile tugging at either corner of his mouth.
“Consider it a gift.”
