11-06-2017, 12:33 AM
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.
How could he want her?
Broken – fragmented in a way that can never be mended; damaged in a way that can never be undone. And yet, he, too is broken in a way – she had seen the deepest and darkest part of him unravel beneath the pale moonlight; she had felt him tremble and she had seen him sheathed in blood, feeble, worn, and defeated. There was kinship in the suffering she had endured with him; she understood him, and he – he had always understood her. He had seen past the darkness she yearned to cover herself with, and he had never seen her as the hardened, fierce warrior of wit and prowess she portrayed herself to be.
She was so much weaker, beneath the flawless gleam of her proverbial armor – and even weaker with his lips pressed against the curve of her hip, and then lower, where his breath caresses the crease of her thigh, causing her to quiver in anticipation. The ivory feathers shiver and bristle as a tremor of delight traverses her spine, chasing away the frigidity of evenfall as the celestial sky above unsheathes itself, bathing the volcanic island in a splendor of starlight.
Instead, she is swathed in warmth, drawn up from the hearth of her chest, covering her – pooling within her groin, awakening a part of her she thought lost to the anguish, to the destruction that had become her existence. A soft moan is pulled from her lips, her arousal growing with each soft kiss, with each gentle caress – but she is soon restless, her pulse thrumming and her gaze heavy and settled on his own, mischievous and aroused. Her hips sway, to and fro for a moment, while the rounded curve of her hindquarters presses back against the warmth of his dark lips –
”Let me show you,” she says demurely, though the glint within her eye is anything but coy and prim. Pivoting toward him, her teeth and lips brush yet again across the slope of his spine, tasting the lingering brine of the sea with the salt of the sun, though her kisses are warmer, more fervent – yearning to taste him, to touch him more intimately than she had dared to before. Her hip presses against his shoulder, the scent of her own arousal enveloping him, while her teeth and lips slowly coax his own as her long and lustrous tail grazes the length of his foreleg.
The bridge of her nose brushes along his underbelly as the heat of him touches her lips – she is brazen, tasting him, teasing him, the warmth of her breath and tongue caressing the sensitive skin as the soft hum of her satisfaction thrums against his hip when she emerges. Slowly, she brushes the length of her ivory-laced wing alongside him, as the finely preened lines of feathers bristle and sweep along his quivering flank. Rounding him, her soft kisses become more ardent, burning with a desire growing and filling her with need, as she is once again before him, with her hip aligned with his shoulder – all the while, her gaze searches his own, burning, craving him deeply and blossoming with a longing only he can sate.
”I want you,” she murmurs, knowing that beneath the impish smile and coy wickedness of his humor, he is yearning to know that she is in need of him as he is of her – her heart is hammering so powerfully against her chest, she is certain it might burst from within, at the sheer adrenaline of confessing her want for him – openly, unabashedly. ”I want you to show me; I want you to take me.”
Broken – fragmented in a way that can never be mended; damaged in a way that can never be undone. And yet, he, too is broken in a way – she had seen the deepest and darkest part of him unravel beneath the pale moonlight; she had felt him tremble and she had seen him sheathed in blood, feeble, worn, and defeated. There was kinship in the suffering she had endured with him; she understood him, and he – he had always understood her. He had seen past the darkness she yearned to cover herself with, and he had never seen her as the hardened, fierce warrior of wit and prowess she portrayed herself to be.
She was so much weaker, beneath the flawless gleam of her proverbial armor – and even weaker with his lips pressed against the curve of her hip, and then lower, where his breath caresses the crease of her thigh, causing her to quiver in anticipation. The ivory feathers shiver and bristle as a tremor of delight traverses her spine, chasing away the frigidity of evenfall as the celestial sky above unsheathes itself, bathing the volcanic island in a splendor of starlight.
Instead, she is swathed in warmth, drawn up from the hearth of her chest, covering her – pooling within her groin, awakening a part of her she thought lost to the anguish, to the destruction that had become her existence. A soft moan is pulled from her lips, her arousal growing with each soft kiss, with each gentle caress – but she is soon restless, her pulse thrumming and her gaze heavy and settled on his own, mischievous and aroused. Her hips sway, to and fro for a moment, while the rounded curve of her hindquarters presses back against the warmth of his dark lips –
”Let me show you,” she says demurely, though the glint within her eye is anything but coy and prim. Pivoting toward him, her teeth and lips brush yet again across the slope of his spine, tasting the lingering brine of the sea with the salt of the sun, though her kisses are warmer, more fervent – yearning to taste him, to touch him more intimately than she had dared to before. Her hip presses against his shoulder, the scent of her own arousal enveloping him, while her teeth and lips slowly coax his own as her long and lustrous tail grazes the length of his foreleg.
The bridge of her nose brushes along his underbelly as the heat of him touches her lips – she is brazen, tasting him, teasing him, the warmth of her breath and tongue caressing the sensitive skin as the soft hum of her satisfaction thrums against his hip when she emerges. Slowly, she brushes the length of her ivory-laced wing alongside him, as the finely preened lines of feathers bristle and sweep along his quivering flank. Rounding him, her soft kisses become more ardent, burning with a desire growing and filling her with need, as she is once again before him, with her hip aligned with his shoulder – all the while, her gaze searches his own, burning, craving him deeply and blossoming with a longing only he can sate.
”I want you,” she murmurs, knowing that beneath the impish smile and coy wickedness of his humor, he is yearning to know that she is in need of him as he is of her – her heart is hammering so powerfully against her chest, she is certain it might burst from within, at the sheer adrenaline of confessing her want for him – openly, unabashedly. ”I want you to show me; I want you to take me.”
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.
@[Dahmer]