CASIMIRA
dragon-shifting daughter of ashhal and ryatah
She has felt fire stir inside of her chest before, and she has ran from it.
She has felt heat simmer beneath the surface of her skin, and she has been afraid of it.
She has felt that terrifying blackness encroach across her mind, where she feels like she has no control, and she has done everything in her power to never feel it again.
And Badden crashed through every barrier without even trying and showed her an entirely different kind of fire.
She kisses him and his body shudders and she feels a flame flicker between her ribs.
He kisses her and she feels a simmering want and desire come to life in her veins.
And he breathes her name, and suddenly there is absolutely nothing else in this entire world.
She matches his every touch, her chest pressed fiercely into his. Her lips kiss and caress his jawline and down his throat, leaving nothing untouched that she can reach. Already she has memorized his scent and what he felt like beneath her touch – the way his skin shivered and the way his breath had quickened, the way his flesh felt when her kiss was too greedy and she would graze him with her teeth. And she was greedy, because somehow nothing was enough. No matter how much he touched her, no matter how many times he kissed his way along her neck and her shoulder, she already knew it wasn’t going to be enough.
She wanted all of him – every last part.
“Badden,” she had meant to murmur his name, but it came out in a breathless gasp. She was trembling against him, her forehead laying momentarily against his shoulder as she fought to regain some sort of clarity, and some semblance of control. She didn’t know how to tell him what she wanted; that she wanted to know what it felt like to have him on top of her and inside of her, that she wanted him to make her his. That she was absolutely terrified of how badly she wanted him, and not just in that way. She wanted him now, but she knew she would want him again, and again, and again.
And so she steps forward, the svelte curves of her body still tight against his as she slides a few steps alongside him. Slowly, her pale muzzle runs across the top of his back, savoring the warmth of his skin. But then there is something achingly deliberate in the way her touch travels lower, from his back down his flank and so sweetly close to the underside of his barrel, before she stops.
Her chest feels tight with the breath she is holding, and when she tilts her head so that her eyes can find his, she suddenly realizes that she doesn’t have to actually tell him anything at all.
probably gonna need a mature tag now :| just let me know when you write your reply I guess lmfao
<3