06-01-2018, 09:06 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
“You must,” the stallion tells her with a sense of finality in the garbled tones of his deep voice, bottomless eyes searching her with an animalistic hunger that cannot be satisfied with cunning words or the supple curve of a woman’s body. He is a different breed of monster (yes, with riddles and looming darkness and constantly damp, water-swathed skin) and though in the past he has launched onto his victims without much thought, he is developing, learning, calculating. He cared not for the order of monarchs or the rise and fall of regimes, only for himself and the water that is his slave, too far from here for him to use against the pretty little trinket that stands so boldly before him.
“You must,” he repeats, lifting his chin slightly upwards as he takes a step forward, curiosity and inquisitiveness (intelligence) brooding in his black irises, “or you will die.” Another tilt of his head allows the ivory forelock on the bridge of his nose to fall to one side, obscuring one eye from her. He snorts, his breath warm against the cream of her smooth cheek as he extends his neck towards her, idly brushing the pearlescence of his mouth to her skin - the gesture is not sexual, but somehow pensive and reflective.
The feathers distract him again, ignoring whatever expression might be on her face and shifting his weight slightly to inspect them once again. A few are out of place and it bothers him, (everything has a place - in his cave, at the bottom of the ocean - everything) so he steps forward, his muscular shoulder brushing past her own to preen them with gentle, damp lips until they lay smoothly and perfectly.
“Predators get left alone. Prey does not.”
“You must,” he repeats, lifting his chin slightly upwards as he takes a step forward, curiosity and inquisitiveness (intelligence) brooding in his black irises, “or you will die.” Another tilt of his head allows the ivory forelock on the bridge of his nose to fall to one side, obscuring one eye from her. He snorts, his breath warm against the cream of her smooth cheek as he extends his neck towards her, idly brushing the pearlescence of his mouth to her skin - the gesture is not sexual, but somehow pensive and reflective.
The feathers distract him again, ignoring whatever expression might be on her face and shifting his weight slightly to inspect them once again. A few are out of place and it bothers him, (everything has a place - in his cave, at the bottom of the ocean - everything) so he steps forward, his muscular shoulder brushing past her own to preen them with gentle, damp lips until they lay smoothly and perfectly.
“Predators get left alone. Prey does not.”
m a u g r i m.
@[Lepis]