12-04-2017, 02:51 AM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
He presses closer to her, skin to skin, and the heat of his breath trailing the length of her neck is enough to elicit a shiver from her. ”I do not rely on him, just as he does not rely on me.” (She is not devoted to only one, nor had she ever been. She would not be made vulnerable by exclusivity and jealousy, though it had already begun to fester anyway.)
When his voice reaches into her mind, a shiver reaches into the very pit of her belly, causing her to quiver with delight. There is delicious anguish in the way each claw presses into her pliable flesh, but she pries herself away, if only to reach more of him with her lips, brushing ever so lightly along the coiled ridge of muscle along his shoulder and neck. She does not need for him to say it, not with word, nor with thought. She can feel his arousal in the way he clutches her closer, as if he had thought of it time and time again, of how he might pull her in and take her for his own.
She had thought of it, herself – he is raw magnetism, power, and prowess. She is intoxicated by the allure of his magic, by the sheer capacity of his ability, and when he changes beneath her lips to become the towering, blackened beast she had come to know so long ago with such effortless ease, a low and drawn-out moan rises from the tightness of her throat. A coy smile rises again to her lips, while her ivory forelock lay haphazard over her eyes, dark and glistening.
Her teeth lengthen once more, as her sharp incisors graze along his shoulder and press into the muscle beneath her ravenous lips. She can taste the heat, blood, and darkness under her tongue, and she can feel his pulse thrum – so close that she can almost taste him.
A low and rumbling chuckle emerges then, as her dreary gray eye roves over the ridge of his hipbone and beneath his barrel, where he is wanting and thick with desire. She is not disappointed by the sight of him. Her gaze is cast over her shoulder, wry and delighted. ”And you wanted to find me, Deimos – what took so long?” she muses softly, teeth sinking into the thick leather of his wing, tasting the inkling of blood that surfaces onto her tongue, and it only serves as fuel for her own desire.
”You have missed me,” she murmurs to him, dark and dangerous, daring him to come closer as her delicate folds part and her lustrous tail is drawn to the side, giving herself to him as she had only given herself to few. She feared nothing, and least of not him – he is menacing, commanding, formidable and treacherous, but she is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, yearning to be burned by the inferno of his longing. ”You wanted me then, and you want me now.”
As she had always wanted him.
When his voice reaches into her mind, a shiver reaches into the very pit of her belly, causing her to quiver with delight. There is delicious anguish in the way each claw presses into her pliable flesh, but she pries herself away, if only to reach more of him with her lips, brushing ever so lightly along the coiled ridge of muscle along his shoulder and neck. She does not need for him to say it, not with word, nor with thought. She can feel his arousal in the way he clutches her closer, as if he had thought of it time and time again, of how he might pull her in and take her for his own.
She had thought of it, herself – he is raw magnetism, power, and prowess. She is intoxicated by the allure of his magic, by the sheer capacity of his ability, and when he changes beneath her lips to become the towering, blackened beast she had come to know so long ago with such effortless ease, a low and drawn-out moan rises from the tightness of her throat. A coy smile rises again to her lips, while her ivory forelock lay haphazard over her eyes, dark and glistening.
Her teeth lengthen once more, as her sharp incisors graze along his shoulder and press into the muscle beneath her ravenous lips. She can taste the heat, blood, and darkness under her tongue, and she can feel his pulse thrum – so close that she can almost taste him.
A low and rumbling chuckle emerges then, as her dreary gray eye roves over the ridge of his hipbone and beneath his barrel, where he is wanting and thick with desire. She is not disappointed by the sight of him. Her gaze is cast over her shoulder, wry and delighted. ”And you wanted to find me, Deimos – what took so long?” she muses softly, teeth sinking into the thick leather of his wing, tasting the inkling of blood that surfaces onto her tongue, and it only serves as fuel for her own desire.
”You have missed me,” she murmurs to him, dark and dangerous, daring him to come closer as her delicate folds part and her lustrous tail is drawn to the side, giving herself to him as she had only given herself to few. She feared nothing, and least of not him – he is menacing, commanding, formidable and treacherous, but she is drawn to him like a moth to a flame, yearning to be burned by the inferno of his longing. ”You wanted me then, and you want me now.”
As she had always wanted him.
@[Deimos]