02-24-2019, 03:42 PM
hell is empty
and all the devils
are here
and all the devils
are here
The dappled brute steps in harmonious rhythm with Starsin, their grey bodies nearly melding together as Starsin’s velveteen skin brushes lightly against his. Electricity sparks through Whitter’s skeleton, and an uncontrollable shiver pulsates down his long spine. He was doubtful that Starsin was unaware of her flirtatious actions, which made the moments all the more honey-sweet; enjoyable for a taste, but suffocating in an unknown way. The strength it took Whitter to reign in the bubbling darkness residing within him was exhausting, and should the floodgates failed the steely man knew the consequences. And most of the time, those consequences were overwhelmingly satisfying.
There was little running through Whitter’s fogged mind, with Starsin being the focal point. Her perfume had become mesmerizing to him; so sweet with a hint of spice. At this point, he might follow her anywhere if only to get a glimpse of what the inside of her soul looked like. Peering into such chaos and purity could be something he dreamt of.
“Do I unsettle you, Whitter?” Starsin’s voice interrupts Whitter’s perverted thoughts. The way she feigns concern over someone hearing their conversation is luscious to him. The harshness of reality scrapes against his mind like claw against flesh, but he keeps himself composed. “Unsettle… No,” he admits. “Though you unwravel things that you shouldn’t be,” Is it a warning? Or a beckoning for Starsin to continue the unravelling? Whitter wasn’t confident in either answer. “You unsettle me,” Like a damsel in distress - only he is the monster, and he is her beast. “Just a little bit, though,” Starsin teases, whether out of complete disregard for what he commands, or out of truth.
“My apologies, Starsin. Some might call me an acquired flavor.” Whitter murmurs as he finds his nostrils dangerously close to her angelic flesh, drinking in its exquisite scent. He could feel tendrils of desire crawl throughout his musculature, his male hormones nearly red-lining his actions. It made him slightly curious to know if Starsin would enjoy the destruction of her body, if she would revel in the release of her soul as he tore into her warm carcass.
More blood ran through his mind, and he can feel its warmth as it consumes his thoughts. The metallic taste floods his mouth, and as it does Whitter reaches towards Starsin’s flank to give her a quick yet firm nip to perhaps remember him by when they collapse from each other. “I hope you’re not scared, Starsin,” Whitter’s raspy voice is layered with cunningness and taunt. He hoped she knew not to let a beast catch scent of fear.
There was little running through Whitter’s fogged mind, with Starsin being the focal point. Her perfume had become mesmerizing to him; so sweet with a hint of spice. At this point, he might follow her anywhere if only to get a glimpse of what the inside of her soul looked like. Peering into such chaos and purity could be something he dreamt of.
“Do I unsettle you, Whitter?” Starsin’s voice interrupts Whitter’s perverted thoughts. The way she feigns concern over someone hearing their conversation is luscious to him. The harshness of reality scrapes against his mind like claw against flesh, but he keeps himself composed. “Unsettle… No,” he admits. “Though you unwravel things that you shouldn’t be,” Is it a warning? Or a beckoning for Starsin to continue the unravelling? Whitter wasn’t confident in either answer. “You unsettle me,” Like a damsel in distress - only he is the monster, and he is her beast. “Just a little bit, though,” Starsin teases, whether out of complete disregard for what he commands, or out of truth.
“My apologies, Starsin. Some might call me an acquired flavor.” Whitter murmurs as he finds his nostrils dangerously close to her angelic flesh, drinking in its exquisite scent. He could feel tendrils of desire crawl throughout his musculature, his male hormones nearly red-lining his actions. It made him slightly curious to know if Starsin would enjoy the destruction of her body, if she would revel in the release of her soul as he tore into her warm carcass.
More blood ran through his mind, and he can feel its warmth as it consumes his thoughts. The metallic taste floods his mouth, and as it does Whitter reaches towards Starsin’s flank to give her a quick yet firm nip to perhaps remember him by when they collapse from each other. “I hope you’re not scared, Starsin,” Whitter’s raspy voice is layered with cunningness and taunt. He hoped she knew not to let a beast catch scent of fear.
Whitter
