Pain (WiP)

No idea where this is going. Thoughts for development welcomed!

“Pain...” A whisper so brief it might only have been a breath, teased from those oh-too-red lips. She smiles, a grin altogether impish and delicious, before teeth tease across it, hesitant, precious. Perfect. “Let me tell you about pain” Surer now, her voice, like the hushed whisper of angels, the flutter of a thousand wings, the tinkling of tiny bells (each cliché at once truer and less adequate than the last), she addresses the man, while pale fingers dance across his chest, beating out a primal, random tattoo. He shudders at her touch, a moan- perhaps a sigh or a whimper- slips from his partly open mouth, tongue playing at his teeth. He strains upwards, yet the gentle pressure from her hand keeps him down; waiting, wanting, rampant as desire, as desperate as the drowning.

 

“What do you mean, pain?” She is beautiful this one, her white skin without blemish; he notes this as a sign of clean living, of a life well-indulged. His tongue wets his lips again, eager, overeager, his cup runneth over. She's teasing him. Could she be teasing him? Playing some game beyond his scope, practising in some art outside his star? Entirely possible. His throat moves in a gulp, as if he realises now the odds stacked against him. Is this some mistake? “What does that have to do with an-”

 

“Everything” She cuts him off, then her bare shoulders move in a light shrug “Nothing? Who's to say my little lamb, my little chick” Purring now, fattened with success, ready and willing and able, she coils about her prey as sleekly as a tiger through jungle damps. “In the end it, and every other little thing, are just chemical processes; the mind reacting to nerve stimuli and neurotransmitter. Pain is just lightning in the marrow, thunder in the blood; that's what science tells us. It's lost all of its divinity.”

 

“Divinity?” He feels stupid; reduced to a child, simpering out questions, flailing through ignorance. How small he must seem to her. She speaks of divinity and he fancies her a goddess, descended to shepherd him. This must be what it feels like to be blessed, light sparking through his being, heat saturating his body like love. This must be what it feels like to be chosen, as surely as though he were falling to sand scoured knees through the madness of a desert, eyes drawn to a pillar of fire. He blinks away the beginning of tears, or perhaps it is simply sweat, coursing over his brow, crested with messy blonde hair.

Author's Note

Need help. Be generous

Reviews

[H]

You definitely have a way with words. Kudos, kudos. The first thing I noticed, right off the bat, is, your, excessive, use of commas. Even if they're in the right place, it still makes your lovely sentences come out choppy instead of juicy. Another thing: at every new line of dialogue there should be a break in the paragraph. Not sure if that came out right. Lastly, "oh-too-red lips" needs to go. Cliches work here, but that's just-- I mean, come on.