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Summary
He doesn’t see the brightness of your smile, but he feels the exultation of your laugh as it passes over the stretched flex of his neckline. Yeah, you get off on this pseudo power-play, but so does he, so it makes sense the adage is true: all’s fair in love and war.
Or some sort of flowery crap like that. It’s all bullshit. Made up by someone who likely had more self importance than brains. But fuck, he ruminates, battle sharpened senses fading as the wet click of your hand picks up its pace.
Love, war, whatever this is, it’s fucking worth it.