09-17-2017, 10:27 PM
He has her in his hands, shaping and molding her though she would not admit it aloud. He meets the curl of her hip, the tug of her smirk with his own. This man with the glinting eye and hard smile. She loves to see the way she can coax it across his lips. She loves the way he moistens the tender parts of her body.
But when he burns against her skin, the familiar press of a shoulder against her smaller her form, the woman moans softly, a shutter racking her pale body...but then he stops. Epithet barely has the time to register the halt of this magnificent force before he blurts out something far more sinister than the darkness that lays in the pit of her belly. "Someone?" The word is a mixture of hurt and anger, her eyes darken to a deep red glow of embers as she snaps her head around to look at him, sucking the air out of the space between them.
Epithet swings her hips around to draw them away from Wyrm. She is accusing him, tearing him apart with her eyes to see if this is some trick or test. But he is an open book to her now. They are one in the same, a single beat, a shared mind. Epithet looks away as her blazing eyes return to the blue-black of before as she ponders what other woman could possibly satisfy him. Sure, Epi could change, shape herself into anything -anyone- but this?
The mare is quiet as her face is offered to his, the feelings of anger and hurt still burning deeply in her gut but she would give him the chance to continue if he should like. "Do you want to be the father? Is she your lover at home? Explain this to me." Her voice quivers softly as she attempts to steel herself. She feels cheated out of something that had yet to begin. She had wanted him, laid it out and was willing to let him rule her...keep her to himself and only him. She would have bent beneath him like a willow and gladly asked for more. But now she waits, her eyes glassy with the threat of hot angry tears (that would not spill for him). "I don't care, Wyrm. I don't care about any of this but what I do care about is you and I'm choosing you." She adds before he can explain, if he chooses to, but deep down Epithet knows she will be the one left shattered into million pieces.
But when he burns against her skin, the familiar press of a shoulder against her smaller her form, the woman moans softly, a shutter racking her pale body...but then he stops. Epithet barely has the time to register the halt of this magnificent force before he blurts out something far more sinister than the darkness that lays in the pit of her belly. "Someone?" The word is a mixture of hurt and anger, her eyes darken to a deep red glow of embers as she snaps her head around to look at him, sucking the air out of the space between them.
Epithet swings her hips around to draw them away from Wyrm. She is accusing him, tearing him apart with her eyes to see if this is some trick or test. But he is an open book to her now. They are one in the same, a single beat, a shared mind. Epithet looks away as her blazing eyes return to the blue-black of before as she ponders what other woman could possibly satisfy him. Sure, Epi could change, shape herself into anything -anyone- but this?
The mare is quiet as her face is offered to his, the feelings of anger and hurt still burning deeply in her gut but she would give him the chance to continue if he should like. "Do you want to be the father? Is she your lover at home? Explain this to me." Her voice quivers softly as she attempts to steel herself. She feels cheated out of something that had yet to begin. She had wanted him, laid it out and was willing to let him rule her...keep her to himself and only him. She would have bent beneath him like a willow and gladly asked for more. But now she waits, her eyes glassy with the threat of hot angry tears (that would not spill for him). "I don't care, Wyrm. I don't care about any of this but what I do care about is you and I'm choosing you." She adds before he can explain, if he chooses to, but deep down Epithet knows she will be the one left shattered into million pieces.
Epithet