@AceousPyro < departed the city, rejected his affections, refused his pleas? When he was on his knees begging, she had turned her back on him. Now, that she had returned, was he to expect the same?
And then, as if they had somehow become two magnets of >
As if each press of her lips is constricting him; deadening his breath in his throat, Daario is rendered speechless in this moment.
Instead of a retort, he takes her chin and draws her face upwards, until their lips are aligned. With mischievous eyes, he says,
βAnd again.β
βππππ,β he says, savoring their closeness. βAn interesting word coming from the freer of slaves...β
He runs his thumbs across her wrists.
βI do not want a slave,β he says. βI want a queen... a queen who makes the πβππππ to return to me, again and again...β
At this, he crooks his brow.
βKeep going,β he teases. βAlways π€βππ‘?β
He steps closer until only a thin space remains between them, closeness turning what used to be air into a column of electricity.
βSpeak π¦ππ’π vow, my queen.β
He answers the call and steps towards her, as he always does.
βAlways?β He says, taking her hand and pressing his lips on the back of it, lips warmed by the fire beneath her flesh. βI thought it was me who swore an oath, not you...β
Heβs playing, of course.