Work Text:
Stop talking, you little fool.
Just – Just stop.
Why? Your big azure eyes are the picture of innocence, as if you don’t know what you’re doing to me.
No, you don’t? Who are you trying to fool?
I said, stop talking. Stop moving your lips.
Oh god, your lips. You’ve put on that lip gloss I bought you for your birthday as a joke – the one that shines like pearls and pink rose petals. How I wish to remove it; to smear it all over your face.
I want to kiss that shine away, so it would also transfer to my lips. I want your lips to part in that little ‘oh’, the one you only have on your face when you pant underneath me in our bed.
I want your lips to turn dark again from the force of my kisses – dark crimson suits your lips so much better than pale pink, you know. It makes you look so irresistible, like a succubus donning the suit of an angel.
But, only wear it for me, okay? No one else can see your lips in crimson – that’s my color, and oh my dear Beatrice, I do not share what’s mine.