05-01-2019, 11:10 PM
Litotes quivers beneath her touch. There is a certain way that she moves: an artist’s touch, so delicate in the way she presses her skin to his. Kensa is violent just as she is gentle: the trail of a brush here, the loud spattering of paint there. She is both intimidating and welcoming. The fire of her eyes could set him aflame, burn him to complete ash, and he would still bow at her feet. Even in his rage, he would die to be the soil that nurtures the grass that feeds her. Her golden eyes are his universe: Lie is but a dark speck of a planet reflected in them.
Pointed kicks and bites land their blows and the cremello melds to them. He finds himself leaning into whatever violence Kensa wishes to thrust upon him. She is such a brilliant amalgamation of energy, his point of being. For a moment he wishes his purpose in life is found purely within himself; alas, he belongs too wholly to Kensa and their family to search any further. Here, against her betrayal and absolute need, he bows. He subjects himself to his own torture. He submits completely.
Where her lips go, Litotes remembers. The paths she blazes across his skin are forever marked by her lips. The pleasure is blinding - his back legs buckle, he moans. There are sharp teeth tossing empty threats but the cremello does not shy; instead, his mouth grows wide with a full set of lion’s teeth and a vicious growl. His neck curves around her hindquarters, lips hungry and furious against Kensa’s skin. She demands and he meets her wishes, dragging those cruel canines against the flesh of her hind, digging in as he groans into the blood he draws. She tastes so good he wants to dig deeper, and he does for a moment; yet, restraint finds him, and he pulls away in a frenzied whip.
Dark mud mars the gold and white of Kensa’s back legs. Lie’s wild eyes stare at the marks, wanting to wipe her clean, return the fresh ivory to its natural state. He settles, though, finds another place for the screaming energy ringing in his ears. The wild locks of her tail are tangled in his mouth when he drags her close, chest heaving into the firm press of her legs. He rests his head on her spine, breathing heavily while holding her tight to himself. Her scent is too much and he rears back, then nudges the thick of her tail out of the way. It is here that he fully remembers the nights they spent entwined, the memories they made teasing each other until one of them succumbed.
Innocence, he thinks, games we played in innocence.
There is nothing gentle in they way he teases her, never directly kissing exactly where she loves it the most. For a second it is for his own pleasure, feeling her body lean into his touch as he hesitates. He presses first just the tip of his tongue, then his mouth, moving against the vibrations of her body. Whatever she asks, he gives.
@[Kensa] part of me wants her to be like "the clit is an inch up you idiot"
Pointed kicks and bites land their blows and the cremello melds to them. He finds himself leaning into whatever violence Kensa wishes to thrust upon him. She is such a brilliant amalgamation of energy, his point of being. For a moment he wishes his purpose in life is found purely within himself; alas, he belongs too wholly to Kensa and their family to search any further. Here, against her betrayal and absolute need, he bows. He subjects himself to his own torture. He submits completely.
Where her lips go, Litotes remembers. The paths she blazes across his skin are forever marked by her lips. The pleasure is blinding - his back legs buckle, he moans. There are sharp teeth tossing empty threats but the cremello does not shy; instead, his mouth grows wide with a full set of lion’s teeth and a vicious growl. His neck curves around her hindquarters, lips hungry and furious against Kensa’s skin. She demands and he meets her wishes, dragging those cruel canines against the flesh of her hind, digging in as he groans into the blood he draws. She tastes so good he wants to dig deeper, and he does for a moment; yet, restraint finds him, and he pulls away in a frenzied whip.
Dark mud mars the gold and white of Kensa’s back legs. Lie’s wild eyes stare at the marks, wanting to wipe her clean, return the fresh ivory to its natural state. He settles, though, finds another place for the screaming energy ringing in his ears. The wild locks of her tail are tangled in his mouth when he drags her close, chest heaving into the firm press of her legs. He rests his head on her spine, breathing heavily while holding her tight to himself. Her scent is too much and he rears back, then nudges the thick of her tail out of the way. It is here that he fully remembers the nights they spent entwined, the memories they made teasing each other until one of them succumbed.
Innocence, he thinks, games we played in innocence.
There is nothing gentle in they way he teases her, never directly kissing exactly where she loves it the most. For a second it is for his own pleasure, feeling her body lean into his touch as he hesitates. He presses first just the tip of his tongue, then his mouth, moving against the vibrations of her body. Whatever she asks, he gives.
@[Kensa] part of me wants her to be like "the clit is an inch up you idiot"
