10-09-2017, 09:46 PM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
There is a dynamic of submission and dominance here that is almost palpable on her tongue. One minute, she barks out an order to him and he is obedient to it which sends a sharp thrill coursing down her spine as she gives herself over to the waves and her own quick submission as she hands the reins of her life back over to him. From what she has glimpsed in the scant time that he allowed his iron grip on his control to slip, she can surmise the importance of the facade of dominance that he must maintain and she allows him this much because it is important to him, and thus to her. It never occurs to her, as he flashes her a sharp grin that she finds utterly charming just as he knew it would be, that this is odd how she submits to him so suddenly as if she had been born to do just that. Even ghosts have their limitations, and she’s dead set on haunting him for the rest of their natural born lives. Though what about them or this is natural? Especially as he tells her rather casually to imagine themselves as true spirits chained to no flesh or place, and she can envision the havoc they’d cause - can taste that too, on her tongue underneath the bits of brine that make their way in her mouth whenever she smiles at him above the sea they swim through.
Femur does not fear the curse in him.
Things like that always leave enough for room for the tiniest shred of something good to remain even if that good is the fanged grin of his ghost-girl as she goads him on. If he feeds the curse often enough, she thinks he can master it to the point of managing it. Even if in the end, she succumbs to it. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. She’ll join him in that same miasma of nothingness that spits out souls and gives them flesh and shape. Something in them was unshatterable, and quite plainly, just meant to be. Otherwise, he’d not have let his mask slip nor would she had gone so readily with him let alone let him taste the way her pulse skipped and sped up beneath his teeth.
For a moment, she hangs back in the water where it is only belly-deep. This gives her an opportunity to admire the iridescent blue of his skin and the roan that runs through it despite the fact that it is damp from their swim. He is muscled, light and lean, but she can see the stallion that he’ll become when he is in his prime and there are traces of fierceness in the way that he moves from the turn of his head to the flick of an ear. “Does it now?” she calls with a chuckle, as she joins him at last, scooting up that slight slope of shoreline to brush against his side with her own. Femur is just as soaked and winded as he is, but she smiles despite it because his gaze finds her flesh and burns it with desire wherever it lands.
Burns might not be the most accurate description, it felt like he branded her with his hot needy look.
His desire gathered speed and steamrolled right over her to the point that she had to stifle a gasp or two of her own in that moment. She felt the air grow hot and heavy between them but that did not stop her from obeying him when he demanded her to come closer. Femur felt a strange itch beneath her skin to mark him as much as he had done with more than just the way his eyes had traveled all over her, picking her out of shadow and obscurity just as he had back in the Forest. She longed to rub her scent so deep into his blue fur that he’d never get rid of it; she also longed to sink her fangs into the tenderest points of his flesh so that the two pinpricks would scar over and he’d know just exactly who those little love-bites came from - her, and only her.
Longclaw’s need matches hers; she comes without hesitation and plants herself steadfast at his side so that their shoulders touch. He grows calm - speaks with that same calm and it spreads to her, quiets the desire that fades into the background just like the sound of the shore does as she takes her first full measure of Tephra and considers his offer. “Hm...” she muses aloud, liking the prospect of the lava cave but curious at the same time about his favorite part of the vast cindery island.
“What if you showed me a place that is yours and yours alone?” She’d expect no less of him to have a sanctum amidst all of this in which to haunt by his lonesome and it is that place that she attaches the most importance to. Femur will discover haunts of her own as she awaits his return each time he leaves her side and this island to do what it is that he does best which she assumes is wreaking havoc in his own way along with doing whatever it is that allows him to remain here as more than just a passing guest.
Femur
@[Longclaw] <333