10-07-2021, 04:24 AM
Desire
He wears his anger and his disdain so plainly on his face that it fascinates her.
She is used to a simmering kind of anger, the kind kept locked beneath cold stares and a few sharp words. But Ashhal spares nothing in letting her know exactly what he thinks of Pangea, and it is all she can do to keep from asking him why he hates it so much, though she has her suspicions. If she is correct it is because of her father, and the last thing she needed was him making a connection between her galaxy-drenched skin and the dark god that had created Pangea, and so she does not press the matter further.
Besides, she has a far more interesting game to play.
His teeth clamp onto her withers, his body pushing against her, and she feels that familiar shockwave of adrenaline and anticipation shiver down her spine. But unlike her mother, who would have obediently melted in response to being handled roughly, Desire is not quite so compliant. She knows she has not yet given this man a reason to compare her to the archangel, but she has every intention of catching him off guard with the differences between the two once she has made her grand reveal. She wrenches herself away from him, feeling the bruise blossoming beneath her skin from where his teeth had tried to hold her.
She does not go far, though, only shaking his grip on her so that she might turn to aggressively push her chest into his. Her teeth snap at his throat, before raking up his neck, feeling his skin against her soft lips. “Fuck me first and if you still have the energy we can fight afterward,” comes her own velvet growl, already feeling that knot of want that she was prepared to let him in unravel.
By now she has already curved herself away from him, that sinister glint in her black eyes hidden from his view, and all he is going to see are her galaxy-colored hips waiting for him.
She is used to a simmering kind of anger, the kind kept locked beneath cold stares and a few sharp words. But Ashhal spares nothing in letting her know exactly what he thinks of Pangea, and it is all she can do to keep from asking him why he hates it so much, though she has her suspicions. If she is correct it is because of her father, and the last thing she needed was him making a connection between her galaxy-drenched skin and the dark god that had created Pangea, and so she does not press the matter further.
Besides, she has a far more interesting game to play.
His teeth clamp onto her withers, his body pushing against her, and she feels that familiar shockwave of adrenaline and anticipation shiver down her spine. But unlike her mother, who would have obediently melted in response to being handled roughly, Desire is not quite so compliant. She knows she has not yet given this man a reason to compare her to the archangel, but she has every intention of catching him off guard with the differences between the two once she has made her grand reveal. She wrenches herself away from him, feeling the bruise blossoming beneath her skin from where his teeth had tried to hold her.
She does not go far, though, only shaking his grip on her so that she might turn to aggressively push her chest into his. Her teeth snap at his throat, before raking up his neck, feeling his skin against her soft lips. “Fuck me first and if you still have the energy we can fight afterward,” comes her own velvet growl, already feeling that knot of want that she was prepared to let him in unravel.
By now she has already curved herself away from him, that sinister glint in her black eyes hidden from his view, and all he is going to see are her galaxy-colored hips waiting for him.
so we're slaves to any semblance of touch, lord we should quit, but we love it too much
@Ashhal