MELISSA KING: IN THE BED OF A TRUCK OFF A HIKING TRAIL.
as cold as the rusted metal might be against their skin, clarice could barely feel it as opposed to the heat that was radiating from melissa's own body. above them, the canopy of the national forest was a jagged, black crown against a purple sky, a beautiul horizon of sunset and stars just coming up behind the daylight. but clarice's world had narrowed to the frantic thrum of the woman pinned beneath her.
her hand, scarred but steady, didn't simply touch mel ; they measured. she tracked the frantic gallop of the resident's pulse against her thumb, cataloging the exact point where life beat loudest against the skin. it was a gorgeous, yet fragile thing. clarice felt the hitch of her lungs, the way her back arched to meet clarice's weight, and it took every ounce of her discipline to keep the hunger in her eyes looking closer to desire, rather than devour. 'is this okay?' she questions. she was a killer, but she would never hurt a woman. especially not one she cared about. which is why she gazed at mel, below her, as if she was seeing the world there, instead of in the sky. @faerys.