Prompt: #3- Ale (30_beverages)
Word Count: 364
Author's Notes: Sexual-ish
It was a rare occurrence that he was drunk, but there were times when his pain became too strong and he couldn’t think of anything to do to chase away the harsh memories- if only for a little while- than to drink them into a warm blur.
It was times like those that she usually tried to avoid him, opting instead to spend time with her friends, but they always tired of her complaining. In time she learned to stop talking about him all together when he was in one of those moods. She would smile and laugh and pretended things were fine, but they always saw through her.
They had decided, after some time, that he had to stop wallowing in his own self-pity and that she had to stop running to them every time he sunk into one of his dark states. If they were to work out in the end he would have to learn to live again, and she would have to learn to live with the darker side of him.
They had locked her with him once, him halfway to drunk, her halfway to hysterical. She felt like a caged animal, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, completely exposed to his dimmed eyes. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, but the fear was there all the same, that same fear that hit her in the stomach when his lips were against hers, the warm taste of ale flowing into her mouth. She wanted to resist him, but knew she couldn’t. She always surrendered to him, moving her mouth in time with his, letting his lips and flesh wander against hers, a fine buzz in her ears.
She could always feel the cold of his anger, the heat of his passion.
Her mind was always a haze when he was like this, passionate without provocation. She never could say no, never could pull away. She became paralyzed to his actions, let him strip her naked, let him lay her on the cold, stone floor, let him pour the cool ale across her stomach, felt the golden liquid pour over her skin and the roughness of his tongue lapping it away.