“May the shirak’s burn beneath your torches, as the ashen night falls underneath our fingertips”

“Fingers? I like fingers.” She told me while looking down at her hands. How would I
describe her hands? Small, smooth, delicate. Oh the things I would do to those hands. I
want those hands. I want them to be mine.
“I like your fingers as well.” I told her, mesmerized by the silky flesh that enclosed
her sweet, sweet blood. Oh how I would love to see it. To touch it. To taste it. Oh how I
would love to tas-
“Thank you?” Her eyes crinkled and her eyes closed slightly as she smiled at me. She
smiled at me. My heart fluttered. My pulse quickened. My love my love my love. My
love, you will be mine.