Soft. Barely there. Just the faintest brush of lips. Mine. On hers. Gods. What in the hells was I doing? It wasn't demanding. It wasn't chaotic. It wasn't even clever. It was careful. Too careful. And I don't do careful. Not ever. Yet here I was, inches from her face, hovering like some love-struck mortal. I pulled back, barely. Close enough to still taste her breath, still feel the ghost of her mouth against mine. And I stayed there. Just… staring at her. No smirk. No joke. Not a single witty line to cover my ass. Waiting.
For her. For something. For… I don't even know what. And then, oh, bloody hells, she bit her lip. My eyes dropped instantly. Couldn't stop myself. Watching the way her teeth caught that soft curve, the way her chest rose just a fraction too fast, the tiniest tremor in her composure. And I saw it. I saw her. She wasn't just shaken. She was choosing.
When her hands came up, her fingers threading into my hair, tugging me back down to her mouth. I let her. No games. No resistance. Just gave in. The kiss this time… gods, it was different. Messier. Needier. She wasn't just kissing me. She was wanting me. Exploring me. Testing what that felt like for her. And every second of it lit me on fire. Her fingers clenched in my hair. Her body pressed closer. I matched her, deepening the kiss, savoring every roll of her mouth against mine. When her lips parted, I didn't hesitate. I took. My tongue teased against hers, coaxing, claiming.
Oh, that sound. That tiny, unintentional whimper from her throat. Real. Raw. Not trained. Not for anyone but me. It wrecked me. I groaned into her mouth, pulling her tighter against me, greedy for every inch of her. She should have known I'd be good at this. She should have expected it. But expectation and experience are two very different beasts, and the way she melted into me proved it. I didn't want to stop. I wouldn't. Not until she did.
She broke the kiss, panting, her breath warm against my lips, hands still tangled in my hair like she hadn't quite decided if she could let go. For once, I didn't ruin it. Didn't crack a joke. Didn't cut the moment with arrogance. I kissed her again. Because I wasn't done. Because I would never be done. Gods, this time, this time it was hungrier. Urgent. My hands slid up her back, memorizing the softness of her skin, the curve of her spine, every impossible detail of her. She touched me, too, my jaw, my neck, my chest, like she was learning me piece by piece.
Her palms pressed flat against my chest, heat searing through the thin layer of fabric. She had touched a thousand bodies before, I knew that. But this was different. Because she wanted me. Then, suddenly, horribly, I felt it. The shift.
Her urgency faded. The rawness dulled. Her kisses became too smooth. Too precise. Muscle memory. A role. A performance. Not her. Not my Annie. Anastasia. The performance. I hated it. I broke the kiss, catching her hands before she could keep going.
"No." The word was quiet, but it shook through me. She blinked, startled, breath still uneven.
"Not like this," I told her. My eyes searched hers, desperate for her to understand. "Not the expectation." Her fingers tensed in my grip.
"I don't want this." Her lips parted, something flickering there, uncertainty, maybe. Fear. I softened, but I didn't let go.
"I want you. The real you." Not the shrine worker. Not the role they carved into her. Not the practiced seduction. Her. My Annie.
Gods above and below, help me, she didn't know how to give that. So we stopped. Not with a fight. Not with words. Just… unraveling back into ourselves, reluctant and quiet. I held her hands a moment longer, then let go.
Again soft. Too soft for me. So foreign to me. I kissed her forehead. No smirk. No teasing. Just warmth. And then I left.
✧༚⋆༚✧༚⋆༚✧
The cool night air hit me as I walked out of the house, and I sucked it in like I'd been drowning. What in all the flaming hells was that? She had wanted me. That much was obvious. And I… gods, I'd wanted her, too. Desperately. But when she shifted, when she slipped into habit. I couldn't take it. I didn't want her mask. I wanted her. Her sharp words, her exasperated sighs, her rare laughter, her impossible defiance.
But she didn't know how to give that. I refused to take anything else. I refused to take anything from her. I would never do that. I dragged a hand down my face, glaring at the stars like they'd betrayed me. I hadn't planned this. Not any of it. I took her to piss off the others. To spite the pantheon. That was the whole damn point. And now? Now I wasn't sure who had actually won.