Topic: Poison Apples

Imogen That

Date: 2017-08-30 00:33 EST
I was a fool to believe in you
A sucker for every line
I'm a little less blind
Than I was before.
I can see right through your design.
- If Looks Could Kill


There were certain things to trigger Imogen?s moods. The shift of her demeanor that were anything but subtle. Things to turn her smile into immediate darkness, snuffing out the light in her eyes and shut her down faster than a power switch.

Church bells. The words ?I love you?. Couples that were still in their honeymoon phase and were sweet enough to leave a bitter taste on her tongue. Nice guys.

The list went on.

Standing at the foot of the bed, staring at crumpled sheets from the night before. Her drunken stupor that had left her head dangling off the edge of the bed that morning, sans the hangover. It was the only blissful part of the creature side of her. Her seeming inability to get that crippling hangover no matter how much she drank, it almost made up for her inability to look someone in the eyes without dangerous repercussions. Almost.

Standing in no more than the black lace undergarments from the night before, the bottle clutched in her palm was brought to her lips as her imagination got away from her. She wasn?t staring at the bed in Rhy?Din?s motel, she was staring at the bed back home. His screams as she?d turned the pain on him that she?d felt in that moment. His betrayal brewed in her alcohol soaked belly in the present, twisting it and coiling it like the writhing of snakes. Remorse mixed with bitter relief, it was tainted with sorrow and longing.

Mascara clumped lashes veiled her eyes when they closed, the bottle seemingly glued to her hand in a vice-like grip as she swallowed hard against the lump that was stuck in her throat. I hate what you?ve turned me into. Her eyes opened to see the motel room once more, her lips drawn into a thin line as she turned away from the bed. Her bare feet padding toward the bathroom to wash the stench of stale liquor and sweat from her body. She only wished there were enough soap to wash away her memories.

Imogen That

Date: 2017-09-25 17:28 EST
Alexander Lindgren.

Imogen never expected Swedish flavored chiseled muscle, a strong structure of a jawline and feather-soft ash blonde locks could entrance her so deeply. Against everything that she believed, against every ounce of boundaries and barriers she'd wrapped herself in against the world. He did not chip away the walls, but tore through them with a crowbar. He plunged his hands into her rib cage and tore open the cavity, crawled himself inside and consumed her from the inside out.

From the first moment their eyes met across the bar, the epitome of contrast. Yin and Yang. He was Light. Bright and warm, with a swath of a smile that bowed on his lips. The barn straw blonde waft of silk and the accentuated woodland brown of his eyes that pulled everything together in a mirage, breeding images of a fire stoked hearth and hot coffee on a cold wintery morning. An intricate weaving of welcome and invitation.

She was Darkness. Wrapped in a sheath of attitude, a consistent pout poised on plump lips and shadowed sockets of smudged makeup, artistically placed to hide sleepness nights. Enclosed within herself, her edges razor sharp in a determined threat to slice anyone who got within reach of her strategically chosen space claimed, the farside of the bar close enough to voice her needs to the server, but with distance to enforce her walls of solitude.

Even with the lines drawn in a murder plot circle around her, he eased through it like a heated knife through butter. Unabashedly intruding in her fortitude of liquor graced solace, plunging that blade into her chest with the exquisiteness of his smile as he leaned close enough for their breaths to mingle and entangle, wrapping them both in the illusion of privacy in public. With fair logic and reasoning scattered to the wind, she leaned in to his intrusion, dancing with a silver-tongue romance of unrequited welcome. "Did you mistake a look for an invitation of invading my space?" She whispered to him, the darting sweep of her brows expectant in his surrender.

"I didn't ask for one." He wore an air of confidence like a second skin, closer than a blanket and more adherent than wet silk.

"Do you often take things that don't belong to you?" Eyes the color of a storm brewing over the ocean squinted, stepping out of her home into the too bright sunshine as she zeroed in on his eloquently dancing and parting lips.

The bow of his lips grew in front of her eyes, slicing through her chest like filed claws before clinging on like static, electrifying her skin and sending shivers up her spine. A drop of poison bled from teeth and tongue, one word that sank deep and resonated, a seed that grew and bloomed. "Yes.."

https://i.pinimg.com/originals/fc/31/ac/fc31ac0d2a62a3334fdf33a3f7563b94.gif

"I crave a dangerous kind of love. One that breaks hearts and bed springs." -Michael Faudet


Imogen That

Date: 2017-09-26 22:28 EST
A new religion that?ll bring you to your knees
Black velvet if you please.
-Black Velvet; Kobra and the Lotus



Encased in the rapture of tangled sheets, sweat coated limbs, and mingled panting breaths that seeped the aromas of ravished lust of the flesh and the gluttony of heady intoxication. They bore their sins with prideful, sated smiles.

Wearing only the thick coils of his arms and a portion of the sheet over her hips, she unpeeled her cheek from a chiseled pectoral and placed a splayed palm to his chest to push herself up on a propped elbow. ?Alright, you?re smothering me,? she grunted at him, a coy smile dancing on the plump bows of her lips. Her lipstick was smudged down the gentle curve of her chin from the corner of her lips, the evidence of their heated passion smeared over his mouth.

Looking down to the Swedish God among men, his sepia eyes turned to her and hitched her breath. The slow spread of his smile was the dangerous sort of charming, the kind that promised nights to bring a nun to her knees in a less divine form of praying. She?d broken from him for no more than a moment before muscle pulled her back in, springing a grunt loose as she fell against his chest in a haphazard sprawl. ?You didn?t mind my smothering a moment ago,? he reminded her, smudging stained lips across her jawline.

Her eyes rolled dramatically as she pressed her hand to his chest more forcefully, grumbling at him. ?My better judgment was weakened by seduction with booze,? she informed him, brushing off the shiver and pinprick bumps that dusted over her back from his smeared lips. With her insistence, his arms loosened from to allow her movement. Smirking to his relenting, she slid a leg over his lap and hoisted herself over him, rising with a swath of her hair with a forearm to splatter the burnt wood tresses down her shoulder blades as she felt his eyes heavy on her skin. ?Here I was thinking it was my subtle charm and good looks,? he raised a brow to her.

?Perhaps you?ve had too much to drink as well, then,? the bottom swell of her lips pushed forward, her fingers encompassing the strong structure of his jaw with a meager shake. ?That may be true, but I stand by what I said,? he smirked up to her, his fingers wrapping with a scorching heat around that wrist, forcing her fingers away from his jawline to graze teeth over her fingers. She hissed at him, seething upon her throne of muscle at him for the affection before she was tearing her hand away from his mouth. ?Stop that,? she muttered at him, disentangling herself from him and the sheets as she climbed off him, rising to wobbly knees. His laughter was as dangerous and spirited as his smile, but he didn?t reach for her.

Instead, he rolled to his side with a stretching arm for the floor in search for the cigarettes tucked away in his jeans while she worked on smoothing the tangled knots in her hair with her fingers. It was a fruitless mission, and she scowled endearingly at him for it. ?So what now?? He asked her, his arm returning with his prize as he rolled onto his back to watch her lips. ?I need a shower. I reek of you,? she wrinkled her pointed nose as if it was a terrible thing, a putrid notion to smell of the man sprawled on her bed. ?I?ll be gone by the time you come out,? he told her, fitting the cigarette between his lips, fishing out the lighter hidden among the slender sticks. ?Promise?? She smirked, turning toward the bathroom with shaky steps as she took a shuddering breath.

?Promise.?

And he was.