09-19-2017, 11:20 PM
Ellyse
I have the tendency of getting very physical,
so watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle.
so watch your step 'cause if I do you'll need a miracle.
”I will know when I see him,” she muses softly, as her heavy lashes fall over her darkening hazel eyes. The doubt has still found a way to harbor itself within her tired and weary mind, but it is soon soothed by the way he pulls her near to him and onto the soft and supple sand, with familiar teeth raking across her gilded skin and over the swell of her expectant belly. She so deeply loathed pregnancy – it was tiring – a constant drain on her energy reserves, and she felt fickle, weak, and without worth. It often had its way with her emotions too, rife and restless, as tumultuous and unpredictable as the ravenous sea.
She often swept her own insecurities away during such times; she was most vulnerable when feeling as utterly hopeless as she was and she knew it all too well. ”Joplin,” she murmurs against the warmth of his skin, as her teeth grip and tug at the entanglement of knots nearing the base of his nape, preening the pale tresses that lay haphazardly over his neck. ”I like it.” Her teeth grip his withers as her tongue laves across his russet skin – it reminded her so of a carefree summer spent surrounded by dry, swaying grain, lazily caressing the length of her long but heavily muscled legs.
It reminded her of what used to be, of what had been – but most importantly –
It reminded her of his body entangled with her own; it reminded her of the unbridled passion that could often wait for the sunlight to wane nor for the sun to set. She longed for the burden of gravidity to be behind her – she yearned to be nestled beside him, skin to skin, without the stirring of another inside of her to wake her or keep her from finding the place she had come to know so well beneath his jaw and along the column of his neck that made him groan with need against her skin.
A grimace stirs her from her reverie, as a limb presses out from within – her wing rises up along her side, revealing the gentle thrumming of movement under her pale, golden skin – where not one, but two spindly foals dance, healthy - thriving.
Her doubt is shadowed by the warmth stirring inside the tightness of her chest. She so loathed the process of it all – but so deeply loved the result.
”It won’t be long now,” she murmurs softly, her gaze imploringly searching the darkened amber of his, quietly admiring the deep scarring that had left him disfigured so long ago. ”Ledger – tell me, what happened to you? How did you lose your eye?”
She often swept her own insecurities away during such times; she was most vulnerable when feeling as utterly hopeless as she was and she knew it all too well. ”Joplin,” she murmurs against the warmth of his skin, as her teeth grip and tug at the entanglement of knots nearing the base of his nape, preening the pale tresses that lay haphazardly over his neck. ”I like it.” Her teeth grip his withers as her tongue laves across his russet skin – it reminded her so of a carefree summer spent surrounded by dry, swaying grain, lazily caressing the length of her long but heavily muscled legs.
It reminded her of what used to be, of what had been – but most importantly –
It reminded her of his body entangled with her own; it reminded her of the unbridled passion that could often wait for the sunlight to wane nor for the sun to set. She longed for the burden of gravidity to be behind her – she yearned to be nestled beside him, skin to skin, without the stirring of another inside of her to wake her or keep her from finding the place she had come to know so well beneath his jaw and along the column of his neck that made him groan with need against her skin.
A grimace stirs her from her reverie, as a limb presses out from within – her wing rises up along her side, revealing the gentle thrumming of movement under her pale, golden skin – where not one, but two spindly foals dance, healthy - thriving.
Her doubt is shadowed by the warmth stirring inside the tightness of her chest. She so loathed the process of it all – but so deeply loved the result.
”It won’t be long now,” she murmurs softly, her gaze imploringly searching the darkened amber of his, quietly admiring the deep scarring that had left him disfigured so long ago. ”Ledger – tell me, what happened to you? How did you lose your eye?”
You want to stay but you know very well I want you gone;
you're not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on.
you're not fit to fucking tread the ground that I am walking on.
@[Ledger]