[He's not sure what he expected her to taste like.
Well. That's a lie; she's not the first corpse he's kissed, not the first dead thing he's forced his tongue inside. He expects something like dirt, something cold and both yielding and not. He's not entirely wrong; he slides his tongue along her lip when she resumes the kiss, slips in past teeth to tease and coax. It's cool, saps his heat as he probes the space, trapped air and something buried, that undertone that only seems to seep in when the life has left it, before the decay sets in. But she's not slack or stiff, he doesn't need to pry or reposition. She gives just enough, resists just enough. Bites back, just to the point of pain and the groan slips out, fingers tightening in her hair because pain and pleasure have always been inextricably linked for him, and it's enough to allow her to move but not much, not far, and he grinds hips down against hers, ignorant of the danger she keeps at bay.
His hand roves along her skin, up towards her ribs, down towards her ass to pull her tighter against him, try to figure out how to get the armor off when it comes to it, relishing the feel of her skin under his hand, the difference in temperature. Nothing gives too easily, an important consideration usually, when you have to be careful enough not to ruin the body for the ones dealing with it later, but she's more resilient, he knows that from personal experience. He doesn't have to worry about that here.]
cw: necrophilia. so much.
Well. That's a lie; she's not the first corpse he's kissed, not the first dead thing he's forced his tongue inside. He expects something like dirt, something cold and both yielding and not. He's not entirely wrong; he slides his tongue along her lip when she resumes the kiss, slips in past teeth to tease and coax. It's cool, saps his heat as he probes the space, trapped air and something buried, that undertone that only seems to seep in when the life has left it, before the decay sets in. But she's not slack or stiff, he doesn't need to pry or reposition. She gives just enough, resists just enough. Bites back, just to the point of pain and the groan slips out, fingers tightening in her hair because pain and pleasure have always been inextricably linked for him, and it's enough to allow her to move but not much, not far, and he grinds hips down against hers, ignorant of the danger she keeps at bay.
His hand roves along her skin, up towards her ribs, down towards her ass to pull her tighter against him, try to figure out how to get the armor off when it comes to it, relishing the feel of her skin under his hand, the difference in temperature. Nothing gives too easily, an important consideration usually, when you have to be careful enough not to ruin the body for the ones dealing with it later, but she's more resilient, he knows that from personal experience. He doesn't have to worry about that here.]