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It kisses Lorem, and the cocktail of emotions that builds up like steam inside a teapot in her mind threatens to finally finish driving her insane.
It’s her lips kissing her. It's her hands holding her in place. It's her hair brushing against her cheeks. It's her scent filling her nostrils.
And it's all absolutely and completely wrong .
This Lyr kisses Lorem like it's trying to prove a point. It's strong and rough and before Lorem knows it it has one hand tight against the small of her back and the other tangling in her hair, pulling her closer by the nape. Its breathing is heavy and Lorem's eyes are closed and she is kissing back.
What else is she supposed to do?
It smells and tastes and feels like… She can't think. She can't think. She tries to pull away for air, but it just brings her in closer and bites at her bottom lip too hard. Lorem opens her eyes to see bright, electric blue staring back at her. It tugs on her hair to separate her face from its own, and Lorem can see her own blood staining its lips ( her lips). It licks at it as if it was a bit of sugar left over from eating a particularly sweet treat. Lorem also tastes her own blood, now. For some reason, it strikes her as bitter.
“This is what you wanted, isn't it, Lorem?” There is that strangeness to the way it says her name again. “What you kept fighting for all this time. I can tell.” It smiles a sick, pitying smile. Lorem can feel its hand ( her hand) roam from her back to her waist, up and down her side. She can't help the shiver that jolts itself up and down her spine. She hates herself for it. She can't move away from her touch. The Thing That Is Not Lyr's smile sharpens.
“This is what you thought could finally save you. How cute, how naive… To think you could have it, even after everything… even now, after she left you. You’re still going.”
Something inside Lorem's chest snaps.
“What did you wish for, all those times? What did you dream about when you thought you were safe enough to let your mind wander?” Its hand rests lightly but firmly around her neck now, two fingers holding her jaw in place. Her heart threatens to break itself out of her ribcage. When the hand stroking her side goes away, it's like the absence burns her skin. Then, a single blue finger is brought up to her mouth and traces the outline of her lips. She doesn't want to open her mouth, but her body disagrees. She does not want to enjoy this unnatural touch, does not want her body to fall limp into The Thing That Is Not Lyr's hands. But Lorem suspects any and all willpower she had left was stolen away the second Lyr shook this thing’s hand.
She can have this. Even if it is wrong. Even if it makes every cell in her body ache and every inch of her mind scream. It is the only way she could ever deserve it.
It kisses her again unceremoniously, and she stops thinking, and almost manages to fool herself into pretending this is what she wants. This is what she wants. If she can have nothing, no one else; she will have this. She will let soft blue skin and black hair and nimble fingers overtake her. She will keep her eyelids shut and imagine her eyes, and pretend like they have not been replaced with those burning blue spikes that pierce into her from above, even when she cannot see them.