Read this at your own peril. I wasn't quite sure what I was writing until it ended. Hopefully this isn't too much of a mess.
His most outstanding feature was the locks of curls wriggling their way down his ears, living snakes that framed the tormented expression he always wore. She imagined that her anguish matched his. When he kissed her, she could feel the heat of his breath singe her very soul.
She'd been locked away for so long. When the knight had finally arrived he had just stared at the decaying princess. "Is this all there is?" She couldn't tell if the question had come from the knight, or herself.
His mouth was welded against hers roughly. Inhale. Exhale. His hands wandered through her hair. Inhale. Exhale. Her lips bled fire.
"Will you dance with me?" he asked, and he was no knight anymore. His suit was made of ivory, and his hair was blackened ice. From the tips hung knives. She stroked them gently as they spun in stars and moonlight. She remembered this.
A soft moan escaped his lips and, for a moment, she was free from the scorching heat. But she didn't want to remember…
Tender kisses that left her blue. He caressed her cheek from the window ledge that he sat. "Will you try to stop me if I jump?" he asked, and she remembered how that was a silly question. Because if he fell from the window she knew she'd follow. Only when he left did she realize that she'd forgotten to ask if he'd do the same.
Burn marks where his hands undressed her skin. His fingertips were unfamiliar and smooth. They gripped the edge of her shirt before sliding underneath.
The calluses on his palm traced cool patterns down her flesh. "Tell me a secret." He breathed into her ear. "When I sleep, I dream that you're a prince made of ice." She whispered. He chuckled, weaving flowers into her hair that turned out to be weeds.
Tendrils of hair clung to his damp face as he pulled her onto his belly. His eyes were closed as his body contracted with desire.
The sky was on fire, eating its victims alive with smoke and flame. Hell opened in the middle of the street and murdered the summer, the future, and the prince of ice. From a wrecked vehicle, she wept into the shoulder of a dead monarch.
He guided her burning body to the center of the volcano. She held him close as the magma eviscerated what was left, had there been anything left at all. The heart beating beneath her breast was not her own.
The coffin was adorned in blood roses and thorns of silver. His broken face was painted into a smile appropriate for death. Her fingers gently followed the scars crisscrossing his hands and the lines marring his cheeks.
She let out a cry.
In the tower, the knight inspected her closely.
"Is this okay?"
"Is this all there is?"
She nodded while he writhed in pleasure.
"It doesn't have to be."
His arms wrapped around her tightly. Her nose nuzzled his collarbone, staining his tanned skin with tears. Neither seemed to care.
"Never ask me to dance." She whispered before being led through the window.