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For Drusilla
Feb. 16th, 2010 12:24 am[Continued from here.]
Sometimes it struck him that he'd been in this business for too long. That seeing a woman like this, sprawled out on the crushed earth, cold and silent, eyes glassy and empty shouldn't do to him what it did. But sometimes those long nights at the cemetery got long and lonely, and knowing there were scalpel sluts waiting didn't take the bite off the edge. And when it came to that, and there was a girl pulled from the ground who looked like that, sweet and smooth as porcelain even when she was cold and often an a crime scene of gore, it could be enough.
Now he didn't even have to feel that small pang of guilt, or the curiosity of what it'd be like to be found and shot rutting against a corpse. She was alive, but she was so far gone she may as well have been dead.
He shuddered as he laid against her, the excitement running down his spine as he palmed soft breasts and touched a small waist through the dress. Even alive she seemed cold to the touch, or maybe it was his imagination, but he pushed against her, hips bucking against her thigh. He sucked in a breath, lowering himself down to her, smelling dirt and something flowery, a touch of copper that wafted from somewhere unseen and he ran his tongue down the curve of her cheek.
Sometimes it struck him that he'd been in this business for too long. That seeing a woman like this, sprawled out on the crushed earth, cold and silent, eyes glassy and empty shouldn't do to him what it did. But sometimes those long nights at the cemetery got long and lonely, and knowing there were scalpel sluts waiting didn't take the bite off the edge. And when it came to that, and there was a girl pulled from the ground who looked like that, sweet and smooth as porcelain even when she was cold and often an a crime scene of gore, it could be enough.
Now he didn't even have to feel that small pang of guilt, or the curiosity of what it'd be like to be found and shot rutting against a corpse. She was alive, but she was so far gone she may as well have been dead.
He shuddered as he laid against her, the excitement running down his spine as he palmed soft breasts and touched a small waist through the dress. Even alive she seemed cold to the touch, or maybe it was his imagination, but he pushed against her, hips bucking against her thigh. He sucked in a breath, lowering himself down to her, smelling dirt and something flowery, a touch of copper that wafted from somewhere unseen and he ran his tongue down the curve of her cheek.
