"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
I tried to sell my soul last night Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
Maybe later, he’d make her beg (they both know, without words, there would always be a later). He’d make her fucking plead so prettily for him. Now though, today, he wants nothing so much as to fuck her without mercy. To make her body ache, in more ways than one.
And her words tell him that’s exactly what she wants too.
Her teeth snap so close to his skin, her breath hot against him as she presses close. He can taste her desire on his tongue, heavy and so fucking wanting. He could take her right now and she’d gasp and moan beneath him. He shoves hard against her where she is so aggressively plastered to him, his voice gravel in his throat as he answers his dare. “I’m going to fuck you so hard you’ll feel it for a week.”
His teeth clamp hard over crest as he uses his merciless grip and large, demanding body to maneuver her until they are side by side. She’s so delicate and refined next to his brute strength. She looks like she might break beneath him, but he knows damned well she won’t. He could use her in every fucking way imaginable and she’d never falter. Hell, maybe one of these days he would.
He doesn’t wait for her permission, doesn’t bother with any more niceties. He had promised he’d fuck her hard, and he’s always good on his promises (the damned few he actually makes). With a growl, he presses against, wings flared wide as he pulls himself roughly over her. He uses his legs and teeth to bring her hips under him, to pull her into position. Until he can slam hard against her, into her.
He is true to his word, using her hard, pounding roughly into her. His teeth scrape and mark her flesh, demanding and insistent. He drives hard and fast, brutal. So fucking delicious. Until his release shudders through him, until he drives deep, holding her still beneath him as he growls against her flesh, teeth digging into her skin. It’s almost more delicious to know his babe couldn’t take root inside her already occupied womb.
After a moment, he chuckles against her, still refusing to release her from his hold. His tongue laves her shoulder where he’d bitten her, an insatiable hunger still settled deep in his gut. “I could hold you like this,” he threatens in low amusement. “Take you again, until you’re fucking trembling.” He grins wickedly against her pale skin. “I should.”
He’d had enough fucking practice. A few moments is all he needs. And she'd dared him to make it count. Fucking hell if he wouldn't.
12-15-2018, 02:59 AM (This post was last modified: 12-15-2018, 03:01 AM by Ryatah.)
“What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end."
His body pushes roughly against hers in response to her challenge, and his promise sends a shiver of anticipation down the ridge of her spine. But there is a smile, too, a knowing and coquettish curl of her pale lips; her words had seemingly struck a chord, and even if she would adamantly deny it if asked, it had been her intention. She was already in too deep, and just like being tangled in barb wire, struggling would be useless.
She was getting exactly what she had asked for, no matter the regrets that would follow after the rush of the high wore off.
With his teeth latching onto her neck, she remains compliant, even though the harshness of it sends pinpricks of pain firing to the end of every nerve, but never uttering a sound. She had forgotten what it was like to be handled so roughly, although there had been a time when it was all she ever knew; when she never had a say in anything, when afterward left her porcelain white skin bloodied and bruised. The difference between them and Ashhal is she is not afraid of him, not even now, when every touch and move lacks even an ounce of gentleness. With the lack of fear, it left room for only unbridled desire.
She doesn’t resist when he pulls himself on top of her, although the force in which he enters causes a gasp to fall from her mouth. His movements are relentless, his teeth repeatedly pulling at her delicate skin, though it is hardly noticed by her, preoccupied by the ferocity of his rhythm. Every ounce of tension that had been building, from what had lingered from their first union so long ago, and whatever had been sparked by their more recent interactions, was finding its release now. She is powerless to it, and they both know it, and there is something decidedly pleasing in completely relinquishing what little control she had.
There is an intensity building inside of her, and even though his name is right there, precariously at the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t say it. There are only wordless gasps and breathless moans, her svelte frame beginning to writhe beneath him when she feels herself being pushed to the edge, until that coil that had been wound so tightly finally comes undone – her body shaking with the gasps that escape her. The silken strands of her mane cling to her neck that is damp with sweat, her breath still catching in her throat when a slender ear flicks back to catch his words. They elicit a breathless laugh, her head tilting to the side to address him tauntingly, ”Take me again? I’m not so sure you have anything left in you.” She is baiting him, and she knows he will catch on; it’s been years since she played this game, but she’d never forget how.
