Ksenia & Bryan
Her companion had been quietly listening to the guilt and grief pour from her lips, only moving to take her hand away from her golden hair as she tugged on it, his warm hand gentle but firm as he stopped her from hurting herself. Which was when the images had flooded from her to him and she ripped her hand from his, cradling it against her body, afraid to touch him. But again Bryan firmly reached for her hand, not letting the smaller girl retreat entirely. He made it clear he wasn't afraid of her. Ksenia's eyes stared at him. Did he not understand what she was? Why wasn't he afraid of her? She had told him what she was, what they brought and did, hadn't she? He had felt it, seen it!
As he smoothly said he would never use the word hag to describe her, she found herself smiling despite herself. "I might have a few exes that would disagree with you," she managed to tease back. Bryan turned her hand over, as if he was making sure she wasn't hurt and that smile softened on her lips before his eyes returned to hers. His words were serious, but comforting, and spoken by someone who clearly spoke from experience. His shrug illustrated that point even more, but before she could ask him who he had lost close to him, he spoke again and at his words a spark of heat flickered back to life as he leaned in, those plush soft looking lips moving towards hers. Ksenia didn't hesitate to lean into him, her hand sliding from his hand to his face, drawing his face to hers with a hunger and a need for something that almost edged on desperation.
Their lips crashed together, lips and tongue tangling as hands grasped at each other. Ksenia was suddenly practically in Bryan's lap, her slip dress dangerously up around her hips as she pressed into him. There was nothing but wanting to feel, to touch and be touched, to have this gorgeous man help her feel something else. This wasn't the first time she had tried to lose herself in someone, in sex, but it always seemed to fall short. Those people didn't know how raw and vulnerable she really was, how much pain she was in all the time. But this man kissing her back, lips and teeth rough against her own soft lips, he understood, he knew.
"Больше," she gasped, slipping into Russian in her desire, her need for more. Kissing him deeply she translated in a sultry, breathy voice against his lips. "More."