[mature] do you feel like a young god? ciri - Printable Version +- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum) +-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24) +--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81) +---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98) +----- Forum: Hyaline (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=92) +----- Thread: [mature] do you feel like a young god? ciri (/showthread.php?tid=16423) |
RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Amet - 10-09-2017 if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes The moment of silence between his speech and her response stretches into eternity. Amet's heart can barely handle the wait; it threatens to rip from his chest, as if bursting away from flesh and bone will somehow solve this dilemma. Will she stay? It may burst with excitement. But should she go... He refuses to think on this option, expelling it from his mind in hopes that positive thoughts will somehow sway her decision. Suddenly, thankfully, her laughter breaks the silence and her starlight falls to rest on them like angel dust. The gilded King sighs audibly in relief, the muscles in his neck and shoulders relaxing now that they have made it this far. She hasn't left yet, and every additional second that she remains laying with him on their bed of wisteria, his hope grows. You are not alone, Ciri says and Amet smiles warmly at her, pleased that they're both trekking into uncharted waters. The brief thought of another stallion turning them into charted waters fuels a fire in the leather-plated King that he hadn't ever known to exist before. Jealousy? He shakes his golden head briefly, afraid to get too far ahead of himself, but then... She reaches for his cheek and this time, it's different. There's an added electricity to her touch. It sets his armored skin on fire, forces his breath to catch in his throat, and suddenly he is lost in her. Her scent that mingles with the perfumed air of Hyaline. The hardened silver in her eyes and the fire that rises in them. The gleam of her coat and the battle wounds that tell of her strength... The curve of her hip. Show me, she whispers, and an unfamiliar flood of passion rages within him. Amet reaches his soft muzzle to her neck, his touch harder and more urgent than before. He runs his maw down her neck, breathy exhales placed on her skin as he moves. He reaches her withers and then her shoulder, caressing the scars as and coat just the same. Hie neck is extended completely, the muscles rippling beneath his golden scales. He wants to go further, touch her more - Amet recoils quietly and rocks himself to his hooves before lowering his head instantly to regain contact with the starry-eyed girl. Her flank, her side, the curve of her underbelly. He pulls his lips back to rake blunt teeth across her flesh lightly and his tail whips against his legs with a new sort of restlessness. His own amber eyes have closed, his mind lost in her scent and the desire burning within him, and then he whispers to her and his voice is gruff with need. "Stand up." Amet @[Ciri] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Ciri - 10-10-2017 Ciri all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was Ohhhhh @[Amet] <3 RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Amet - 10-11-2017 if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes His muzzle explores her, tentatively at first, as she lay prone against the wisteria bed. She is beautiful against the purple backdrop and his amber eyes look up at her face as he continues to rove, almost as if to ask her permission as his touch grows more urgent. Her soft moan throws his ears forward and Amet groans deeply in response as heat shoots through his loins at the sound. The electricity between them is nearly unbearable now; the young stallion is blatantly inexperienced in handling this rush of feeling, and when he does find his voice, Amet's request is gruff and laden with fervor. Ciri is on her hooves quickly, fueled by her desire for him. For him, Amet realizes as his golden eyes drink in the sight of smoky black mare, their breathy desire heating the flowered, private den he had created for her. The young Akhal-Teke's mouth is dry, his throat constricted, and his lanky appendages restless as she regains contact with him. He curves his leather-plated neck instinctively beneath her touch and the muscles ripple as he tucks his head to his chest, amber eyes closing for only a moment as he expels a torrid sigh. Her blunt teeth rake against the base of his mane, unfamiliar but not unwelcome electricity shooting through him once more; Amet curls his head around to look at Ciri with molten lava in his gaze, to watch the way she works her way down his narrow frame slowly, teasingly. His own muzzle reaches for her side and his teeth graze against her coat again, this time nipping playfully and with increasing intensity. His nostrils flare, greedily inhaling the scent of her until she explores down his flank and then lower, and lower, until she kisses against the tender skin at the meeting of his thigh and his underbelly. He squeals involuntarily at her provocative touch, his gilded head tossed skyward as the rush of heat in his groin coaxes his manhood to unsheathe. Amet groans again as she turns her sultry gaze over her shoulder at him (akmar, she whispers, and he is hers) and snaps the tendrils of her tail to draw his attention to the heady scent of desire that he has helped produce. He leans into her curvy frame, trying his best to be as close to Ciri as possible as he nuzzles his gilded head against her flank, the swell of her rump, the side of her thigh. Show me the stars, she purrs to him, and Amet nearly loses his virgin self on the petal-coated ground. A snort of desire escapes him as he moves further down her frame until his muscled shoulder is rubbing against her rump and he is pivoting his gilded frame to face her. The young stallion tries to keep himself settled, tries to contain the desire that swells hot and needy in his loins, but he has lost himself to his akmar and he is no longer piloted by reason, but by a raging inferno of need. "Ciri," he sighs lasciviously against her skin as he presses his chest to her curved haunches and waits for her to splay her legs, his soft muzzle caressing every piece of the starry-eyed mare that he can reach. Amet @[Ciri] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Ciri - 10-12-2017 Ciri all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was *waves a fan* @[Amet] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Amet - 10-12-2017 if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes Ciri is the only thing that exists in this moment. His thoughts, his desires, his needs revolve solely around her. And as she backs her hindquarters into his chest, the gilded stallion takes a shaky breath. He pushes against the starry-eyed girl as she lifts the tresses of her tail and plants another nip upon her rump, unsure of exactly how to express the need that he feels but knowing full well that he wants to show her in any way he can. Ciri's legs are splayed sturdily as she moans his name, coaxing him onto his hind legs with a fiery compulsion. Despite the hazy need in his golden eyes, Amet is careful to settle his weight upon her carefully. His front hooves struggle briefly to grasp at her sides but when he does find purchase, he pulls her back into him greedily and tugs at the base of her dark mane with his blunt teeth. The young stallion sighs with satisfaction as he nestles within her, his soft muzzle moving gently across her withers and then he is adrift in the task of pleasuring her. Amet pulls her tightly to him, consuming Ciri fervidly. His inexperience shows in the length of their courtship, but Amet still has enough time to teeter between ravaging her with the immensity of his need and treating her as if she is his moon and stars. His stars, his akmar. When he is slick with sweat and he has sighed her name into her ear once more, the gilded stallion loosens the muscles in his forelegs and drops slowly back to earth. His body is awash with pleasure and he leans into her hip comfortably, placing kisses along the curve of it before striding forward once, twice, to let his golden head rest against her scarred neck. Amet's heart still beats in his ears and he still wants nothing more than to be pressed against Ciri, but his raging passion has ebbed into a warm, constant want for her. Post coitus, his anxiety has fallen away and he is no longer nervous to stand beside the strong starry-eyed girl. "You're perfect, akmar," he whispers to her. Amet @[Ciri] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Ciri - 10-13-2017 Ciri all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was @[Amet] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Amet - 10-14-2017 if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes He hadn't expected Ciri's painful cry as they commenced the consummation of their relationship; he pauses only for a moment, his ears tilted forward to see if she will protest the weight of him or his entrance into her snug cavern. When she does not ask for his dismount, the young Amet continues with his reverence of her smoky black body. She sighs gently and the gilded King relaxes into a better position at the sound, though he is still fearful that he may hurt her. When he is satiated and his dark tail has flagged over the gleaming scales of his flank, Amet lowers himself gently to the flower bed beneath them, rife with gratification. He is content to nuzzle against Ciri, but his shining brilliance has a different idea. She permeates seduction, her curvy frame pressed and rubbing against his. The Dragon King releases a low mmmm of satisfaction as she curls herself around him and places a kiss upon his muzzle; he breathes in deeply, intoxicated by her scent, and then she speaks coyly and his breath catches for only a moment. "Oh?" he chuckles low in his throat and uses his chin to pull her back to him when she threatens to create distance once more. He presses his soft muzzle to her withers and moves slowly downward, pivoting his golden frame slightly so that his maw can run down her shoulder. Her sweat draws him in, overloading his brain with her irresistible pheromones - had he any notion of how he would feel about Ciri when they had first met, Amet would not have taken this long to display his affections to her (though, perhaps it is for the best that he hadn't known, lest he'd been distracted during the more critical moments of her care). "Only if you call me that again," he murmurs to the starry-eyed girl as he snakes his way down her feminine frame again, this time with less tentativeness and more of an urge to guarantee her fulfillment. His nose trails down her flank, to her thigh, teasingly to the dock of her tail before he places a nip on the back of her leg. "Tell me you want me," he requests of the mare as his voice grows guttural and his manhood grows... well, just grows. Amet @[Ciri] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Ciri - 10-14-2017 Ciri all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was @[Amet] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Amet - 10-14-2017 if there's a light at the end, it's just the sun in your eyes He will never grow tired of exploring Ciri's body with his mouth. Between the feel of her skin, electric against his, and the soft moans she occasionally emits, the gilded stallion is content to soak it all in forever. His touch softens, reduced to breathy exhales against her flesh, and then pushes greedily again. How he aches to tease her now, to see how far he can push her before she collapses into him, but his own self-control is lacking, and Amet would give in just as swiftly as she would. Her roving touch distracts him briefly, drawing a gasp from his lips as electricity shoots through his loins. "Ciri..." he groans as his own muzzle drifts over the swell of her haunches to caress near her tail. She obliges him, her husky voice professing her desire for him in a way that makes his groin ache. Amet grows more adventurous as she flips her dark tail over his neck, pivoting his body away from her until they are facing the same direction and he is able to nibble at the back of her leg longingly. She is splayed already, offering herself to him again, and this time Amet does not bestride her hesitantly. The scent of her is exhilarating and thick in the heat of their den; he moans at her wetness. Wisteria blossoms stick to his back where he has knocked them from their branches and some fall away each time he sinks himself into Ciri. He works to ravish her, ensuring that he moves slowly and methodically this time to avoid another Minuteman assault, as his blunt teeth nip lovingly at her withers and neck, his voice resounding gruffly in her ears with each groan. The stallion closes his amber eyes in pleasure and drifts completely into his stars, seeing and hearing and feeling nothing else. Amet @[Ciri] RE: do you feel like a young god? ciri - Ciri - 10-15-2017 Ciri all of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was @[Amet] |