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Lyrium Kisses For The Templar Going Through Withdrawal

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Blue like his eyes, glowing in the dark like a beacon to draw her in. Her body a moth, his mouth the light. She flutters, her heart in her ears – it beats with his voice. They converge in heat-soaked nights, his sweat her baptism-

renewal/rebirth: purity that couples with the shakes. A cold hands kind of clean. Head pounding, light burning her eyes clarity. Forgetting where she’s headed or where she placed a report. Tired, a weariness that settles into her muscles. Like crawling outside the tent to puke purging; he kisses her anyway-

but the thirst refuses to quench. Blue like the bottle reflected in his eyes. She licks her fingertips after they touch the rim; his mouth tastes of addictions, both her failure and triumph sweet on his tongue. Leashes; her to him, them to the bottle. Tainted purity, she laps up every drop from his lips. The guilt lingers with the aftertaste of him.