Beqanna
[mature] B A D W O L F || Thana - 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: Loess (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=88)
+------ Forum: Sylva (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=90)
+------ Thread: [mature] B A D W O L F || Thana (/showthread.php?tid=17043)



B A D W O L F || Thana - Gryffen - 11-02-2017

a ghost in the darkness.
Alas, all good things must come to an end. As the mares start to fade from heat, the food begins to wither and rot. The air becomes even hotter, hotter than the humidity sparked between bodies pressed together. Flames begin to lick at the autumn leaves, scorching the trunks as Offspring’s rage makes itself known.

Who knew how many unusual courtships had happened thanks to this party, what concoctions of future generations had been made beneath the gold flecked leaves of Sylva? Future prospects to prey upon, to pluck and mold for his kingdom. How many relationships and families were jeopardized in the process? How many would pay for their actions made with their genitals and not their brains? The possibilities were endless and delicious.

However there’s not much time to reflect, not yet. Not with the flickering flames threatening to destroy his kingdom. The rage in the crimson eyes of the black beast amuses the white wraith, he hadn’t realized that Tantalize’s desires had actually been reciprocated. As the fire snakes across the dead grass towards him, licking at his hooves, he merely smiles at Offspring. Smiles as his flesh begins to melt from his bones, as fur and hair evaporate, as sinew and muscle disintegrates. Until only a skeleton stands before him, the flames licking at his bones and flickering behind empty eye sockets as if the crimson iris’s still remain. You see, he still had tricks up his sleeves.

”Party’s over!” He calls out through clacking jaws, turning from the flames and slipping into the smoking shadows to find his beloved blue bird. Let Tephra’s Overseer take his sister, it’s not like she would be safe from him now. He knows her secrets, knows where she will go. None were safe, not anymore. ”My Queen.” Hissing between stony teeth, raking against her cobalt shoulder and ignoring the mix of sweat and sex that stains her coat. ”Shall we let the fire burn out or would you like to do the honors?”

Gryffen


(Anyone who can put out the fire is most welcome to do so haha. Hope you enjoyed the party, anyone is welcome to respond escaping the fire or helping to put it out. Sylva is not fully burning, only part of it so no need to leave)


RE: B A D W O L F || ALL KINGDOM (Party Aftermath) - Thana - 11-02-2017

THANA.
(as black as your soul)
  The fire is intoxicating – heavy plumes of smoke filter through the thicket, chasing away the low-lying fog that covered the dry soil. She can hardly breathe, and so she must move away from the darkness that she so deeply coveted. Her skin shines with a sheen of perspiration beading across the indigo surface, trickling down the length of her body where teeth and lips had brushed and caressed – fervency and desire forgotten for a moment, while all that she had come to know as her own began to burn.

 The darkened abyss of one and the dreary gray of another eye search the smoldering fire, as the dried brush become little else but flickering embers before her – her mental willpower alone brushes dust across the inferno, squelching it, extinguishing it as hickory and pine both burn into a simmering glow. It does not take him long to find her. It is unspoken, the bond that has become to tether him to her and her to him, but she is reminded of the faintest glimmer of worry hidden within his crimson gaze after the fall of Taiga, of the way his teeth and mouth had lain claim to her when she arrived, injured but thriving.

  She does not need for him to say that there is meaning in their connection – that the heat of his touch across her skin, or the intensity of her teeth claiming his own is more than what is shared with any other.

 My Queen, he breathes across her skin, and she is at ease – it does not matter if any other should perish in the heat of the inferno; if any other should suffer and blister and burn. He is beside her, and that is enough to quiet her own tireless mind. When her gaze moves away from the blaze and to him, there is a flicker of amusement, of surprise – he is little more than a skeleton, with the same scarlet stare boring into her own, seeing beyond the darkness of her gaze.

 ”Your Queen, should you have me,” she croons to him, her dark lips brushing across the rigid, literal bone of his jaw. ”You are so wicked, and so full of surprises. Should I worry that you are lacking a bone where it counts?” Ah, and there is that impish smile, drawing up the corner of her lips. ”No. Let it burn – the wind is moving east, and there is little there to carry the flame.” She pauses then, casting a glance toward the brittle, burnt remains of the thicket –

 ”His fire cannot burn forever. Come, let us rest. It has been a .. most fruitful celebration.”



RE: B A D W O L F || Thana - Gryffen - 11-10-2017

a ghost in the darkness.
He hasn't forgotten the night that Taiga had burned. When he had looked for only one, a flash of blue amongst the green and flickering orange. When he had realized the strange feeling that had twisted around his blackened stained heart. Worry. For her safety. It was a strange sensation… To give a shit about someone besides himself. He hadn’t liked it, had sensed the weakness in the emotion. It stank of humanity and he wanted nothing to do with it.

He had promised himself to place distance between him and his most loyal follower. To remember her place, below him. And yet, she had made it so difficult. She complimented his sadistic tendencies and was always able to add a twisted flair to whatever plans he came up with. If there was a protege to follow in his footsteps… It would have been her. Yet she had already risen from student to master. She had become… Almost… Equal. The title of consort was already a given but to make her Queen, to place her beside him… It makes them all the more dangerous. Just as it also exposes their weak spot.

That strange sensation finds him again, as her mismatched gaze finds his and he feels the curling whispers of his worry fade when he can sense her beneath calcified teeth. The fire that had licked along his bones hisses as it extinguishes, smooth strands of smoke rising from behind his empty sockets. He will have to do better, have to be harder, tougher. Has to remember that even if she was somehow his twisted soulmate in life (and he did not even believe in such things) that his purpose in life needs to be greater. That the knowledge he seeks will always be the number one priority in his life.

There is amusement hinting at the curled edges of her lips and he responds with his skeletal grin. ”Have you I shall.” Comes the teasing reply. She would remain Nightmother as well (as the title seems to suit her) until an appropriate replacement could be found. As she taunts at his new ability, he begins the ugly and painful transformation back to flesh. Blue veins and scarlet blood, raw pink flesh and sinew all fuse slowly into one until the crimson of his eyes pop back in their sockets and he is once more the ghostly stallion, wickedly grinning at her. ”I can prove your worries are unfounded if you desire.”

His nostrils flare as he runs his muzzle along the length of her backside, taking stock of the various scents he finds there. A brow raised as he finds familiarity in her fur. ”Ivar?’ He asks pointedly. There had never been jealousy when it came to finding their pleasures in the flesh of others. As long as she always remained faithful to him, it never would. Still he cannot help himself. Poking at her taste in partners just as he assumes she will once she takes a whiff of him.

They move away from the fire, from the flames that lick at the remains of the party and all the evidence of what had unfolded. Her mind is on rest but his…. His is on other things. He cannot help himself, to remind her that it is he that she belongs to. That there was only one that would ever matter when placed between her legs. Most would be repulsed, to taste the sweat of others on her skin. The stink of sex made by others lingering in the air. But not him. Instead, it excites him. To imagine the way she had crooned and writhed beneath their touch. To see the wildness in the white’s of her eyes and the groans that curdle in the back of her throat. Most of all he likes the challenge, to satisfy her the way the others never could.

His muzzle sweeps over her haunches as he slows his gait, as his teeth grab at her flagged tail and pulls it roughly, to slow her down. ”Come here.” He growls softly, his mouth already at the delicate dark flesh on the back of her thigh. Already moving beneath her tail as his tongue finds the hidden pearl that had been concealed. Tasting her and feeling his own need stiffen with the desire to place his claim on her indigo flesh. To place his claim and seed within her. He does not stop, pushing and teasing until she is so close… Only to pull away and place sharp nips along the backs of her legs. She would have to beg for it, beg for him.

Gryffen


@[Thana]


RE: B A D W O L F || Thana - Thana - 11-10-2017

THANA.
(as black as your soul)
  She is no fool; she felt each time he recoiled away from her just as plainly as she felt when he yearned to be closer to her. He is as hot as he is cold; pressing soft, seeking kisses along the darkness of her skin just as often as he sank his teeth into her flesh, drawing blood. He yearned to taste her, to feel the thrumming of her heartbeat fluttering beneath the heat of his insistent touch, and she never shied away from the energy surging through his tainted, soiled blood.  Every time he became lost with her, entangled within the darkness where pleasure and pain so often became synonymous, he is closer to being swallowed in his entirety by her.

  And she, the same for him.

  She is hungry for him, aching to make him her own, and though she is fueled by a fierce and fervent possessiveness that seizes her pathetic, barely flickering heart, she is patient – knowing that with each moment, she is crawling deeper, further into his own fickle, hardened heart. She does not need a profession of love to feel whole; love is as weak as it is wretched – but when his teeth rake the ridge of her spine, when his lips caress her in a way that he only cared to touch her, to elicit pleasure and to make her writhe beneath him – he is hers. He does not need to say that he is; she can feel it.

  He is her weakness, but he is also her strength, pushing her beyond boundaries she had never dreamt of crossing. Impelling her to be more, to strive to be all that she can, and she has become addicted to his satisfaction – longing to see the faint gleam of contentment within the otherwise restless heaviness in his stare. He fills her with raw energy, with compulsive need, and he is her purpose. She does not seek to be his fatal flaw, nor his undoing.

  Quietly, she watches the sinew and bone of his physique slowly piece itself together, and she is awestruck – her mismatched gaze unblinking as each layer slowly sheath his bone structure with flesh, muscle and so much more. She had seen blood and tissue stain moist and fertile soil, she had watched the blood thicken and coagulate while moisture disappeared into the filth and the muck, but never had she seen the intricate lining of beneath with such flawless layering. A low, rumbling chuckle emerges from her at last with his sly wit, and his scarlet gaze is met with a dreary gray eye, alight with amusement.

  ”You are incorrigible,” she croons softly, brushing her lips cross the softness of his cheek, where muscle and skin finally lay once more over his skeletal structure – but he is not at all still for long, running his muzzle along the slope of her spine where dried sweat and blood remain from where Ivar had pierced her flesh with sharp, unforgiving teeth. She cares not if he shares in sin with another, as long as he is hers in the end. She can taste the heat of another on his body as her own cheek presses along the tangled, knotted tresses that lay across his neck; the sweat, the blood, and the sex staining his pale flesh is unmistakable. She is left wondering who (the scent is not at all familiar to her, but there is a faint trace of ash and sulfur), but she does not have long to wonder before he is questioning her own debauchery.

  ”Yes,” she murmurs, ”I found him deep within our woodland and one thing led to another,” she muses, remembering the way the two had danced around the predatory hunger of a beast hidden within – her shoulder is stiff at the thought, where his teeth had laid claim while the heat of his body coveted her. ”he is tolerable when not in the presence of his pitiful Queen, but a terrible lover, nonetheless.”

   Selfish, just as Gryffen is, with anyone that is not her.

  But then –

  His cheek is brushed along her hip and across her thigh, where blunt, yellowed teeth grip at her dark and lustrous tail. A gasp of discomfort is plucked from her lungs as the darkness of her empty, blackened eye searches the pale plane of his masculine jawline as she ceases to move, seeing a wickedness within his gaze that causes her spine to shudder in delight. His demand is rife with need; a deep and guttural growl that rouses the predator inside of her, awakening her own darkened desire for him. It is not long before his pale lips are pressed against the most intimate part of her, drawing out soft puffing breaths and low, crooning moans from the tightness of her throat. Though she is raw, swollen and tender, she is lost to the sheer pleasure of his manipulation, over and over in rhythmic motion and she is close, so close -

  A ragged cry emerges from her parted lips as he ceases his affection, instead biting and plucking at her sensitive skin with his teeth –

  ”Gryffen,” she says through clenched teeth, her legs trembling and splay-legged and dampened with her desire  –

  She would not be his undoing; he would be hers.

  Please,” she coos to him, wanton and wild while her mismatched gaze burns for him from behind her pale ivory forelock. ”I need you.”

@[Gryffen]


RE: B A D W O L F || Thana - Gryffen - 11-11-2017

a ghost in the darkness.
Those four letters would never pass through his lips. To admit such a weakness, to lay bare something as foolish as love as if he could even understand the concept of it. He can’t, he never could, never will. She, the bluebird of the evening, has become the closest thing he’s ever experienced to such a thing. He hates her for it, he craves her for it. She is the most interesting thing he’s studied thus far. All because of what she can do to him. Minette had only been his lover in the sense to break and abuse, to harvest the lives he needed that would carry his name and his blood. He had never loved her even if he had pretended to. He had always been quite the actor, if only she could see him now with the makeup and costume changes in his closet.

But she…

With the guttural laughter (because you can’t spell manslaughter without laughter) as she sprayed blood and brain across his face. The simple pleasure and pride in those mismatched eyes when she had displayed his captive sister before him. The way she always comes back for more. Is there anything she won’t do for him? He will push those boundaries as far as he can. If they reach breaking point? Would they? Would he regret it?

He can see the flash in the stormy eye as her own nostrils flare across his salt stained skin. She had held Ivar within her (and perhaps one day Ivar would find himself in a similar position), had let him mar the cobalt haze of her shoulder. It’s still stained black with blood and the metallic taste of copper soon makes his taste buds bitter as he places a kiss over the wound. Selfish. He can feel the way her body clenches beneath his wandering touch, the way she writhes against him, the way it still begged for release. Ivar had done a piss poor job, nothing that the wraith couldn’t fix.

There’s more to his grasp on her then primal desire. It’s something in his blackened soul that needs to covet her, to have her close, to feel her release and satisfaction. She was already heated, left burning for a resolution that the Loess stallion had failed to bring her. He would not leave her like this, aching for the pleasure that only he could truly bring her. Still, as he licks his lips and tastes her, let her remember who ran the show. Let her beg. Let her crave him the way that he throbbed for her.

Her sides heave as her tail snaps in frustration, her legs parting wider to allow him further access. Beckoning him to continue with her soft cooing ”Please…” As her wild and wicked gaze is thrown back with a toss of ivory tendrils, smoldering with her need. Still he waits, cruel in his reluctance to come back to her. As his teeth nibble along the rounded curve of her haunch, moving to rake along her croup. Every now and then coming back to the sweetness of her, to softly lick and taste, leaving heated breath upon the exposed lips. Tormenting as he continues to pull away, to let it linger. Tormenting himself as every time his tongue is pressed to her, he becomes harder. Stiffer. His own need making him ache and pulse. "I need you." He smirks. "I know."

The darkness between her thighs is wet and inviting, he could bring her to climax now. But he doesn’t.

Straddling her, the motions fluid and smooth as the canvas of her body is well known to him, his legs wrapping with familiarity around her sides. Plush muzzle running along her back, tasting the one’s that had traveled this road before him. Removing their signs as he places his own. The bites he leaves across her flesh are sharp but not as harsh as they had been before. He grips himself up further, teeth sinking into the disarray of her raven hair as he shifts. Pulling her closer to him with a soft groan of need as his shaft (harder then he can remember) teases her at it’s tip, barely tracing the outside of her folds. ”Thana…” He moans into her mane, his mouth devouring the supple indigo skin beneath him. There is something there in that simple saying of her name, something subtle, that gives way to what he actually feels for her. Just a slight glimpse into the window of his secret thoughts before it’s slammed shut. Just as his hardness impales into the wet heat between her thighs. Instantly she is tightening around him and he can’t hold back the sharp hiss of his pleasure as she takes him in.

His thrusts are slow and deliberate, unable to keep his lips from exploring her flesh or his tongue from probing the sensitive exposed wound along her shoulder. A mix of blood and arousal flooding his senses, still tasting the elixir that he had coaxed from her when his tongue had bathed against her clit. It is easy to abandon himself within her, as she swells against him. As he surges against her. Grabbing at the back of her mane, pulling her neck back so her head is raised to the sky. His teeth pinching at the exposed skin of her neck, trailing with hard possessive kisses. Only until she unleashes herself to him in a tidal wave of convulsions will he lose himself completely. Until then he presses his member harder into her, quickening his thrusts with low grunts as he brings them both closer to oblivion.

Gryffen


@[Thana]


RE: B A D W O L F || Thana - Thana - 11-15-2017

THANA.
(as black as your soul)
  ”He is not you,” she murmurs softly to him as his teeth graze over the tenderness of her skin. ”he is nothing.” She breathes as his jaw presses into the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt and sin that lay within the crease, where her pulse fiercely thrums beneath his touch. Her want is so deep that she cannot contain her breathlessness when his lips brush down the column to her neck and along the curve of her shoulder, where tissue lay bare and where dried, flaking blood clutches precariously to the ridge of bone beneath. It is a delicious anguish, to be reminded of the raw and festering wound, to feel the warmth of his breath drift across where another had drawn blood in the heat of a carnal embrace. His touch causes her flesh to flinch, to recoil, though she is crooning softly at the sheer delight her own pain has brought her.

  Gryffen had once been selfish, himself – sowing his seed carelessly and bringing himself to completion with the supple flesh of another pinned beneath the heat and weight of his body, never caring for the pleasure of another. Perhaps, with any other, he might still be selfish – but with her? Each time his lips press into the shadow beneath her thigh, each time his tongue caresses the inner folds where she quivers and gasps his name in erotic delight, she is made aware that he is as lost within her pleasure as she is lost within his. When his legs draw her near to sheathe himself inside of her, intent on burying his seed within her and only giving into his own desire after she has begun to unravel beneath him, the intensity is intoxicating. Trembling, lost to the ecstasy of each smooth stroke and fervent whisper and –

  ”Only you,” she gasps softly when he caresses the most intimate part of her with the paleness of his lips, pulling away from her while she is writhing to be closer to him. She can feel the fervent pressure building within her tightened core, and she cannot contain the sensuality of each long, drawn-out moan, whimper and gasp that emerges from her throat. There is no demure glance; no coy smile offered to the malevolent wraith that held whatever dark and broken part of her he laid claim to. She is swollen, tender, aching for fulfillment, fully immersed into the heat causing her thighs to dampen so heavily with need, causing her tender folds to blossom and quiver with each languid caress.

  I know, he murmurs against her flushed skin with a wicked smile, and a shiver unfurls from the coiled muscle of her thigh, spreading slowly and leaving her heartbeat ragged. The burden of his weight settled onto her heightens her desire for him, anticipation roiling uncomfortably within the coiled knot of her belly, longing to be undone by him as it had been time and time again. Slowly, he presses himself closer to her, aligning himself so that the heat of his pulse is flush against the fervor of her own while a wicked smile graces her dark mouth.

  A soft gasp emerges from her parted lips while he ensnares a tangled lock of hair between his teeth, drawing her neck back and pulling her closer. Instinctually, her hips undulate, rocking against the tidal wave of pleasure roiling through her. He breathes behind her, against her. When he finally does take her, plunging into the depth of her desire for him, it is soaring, agonizing perfection that causes her to cry out his name in the deep, darkness of the still smoking woodland. Lashes fluttering across the darkness of her cheek, she is shuddering with each slow and tantalizingly sensual motion. He does not simply fuck her – he ravishes her and leaves her bitten, bruised, spent and trembling for more.

  Slow and steady rivulets of pleasurable completion weave through her, pulling with it particles of her self-awareness as she is spun closer to the celestial sky draped over the dark canopy of hickory and pine. Every thrust separates her further from the dangerous, sinful darkness inside of her that blackens her wicked and wayward soul. She is taken by him, enthralled by him, enraptured by him, and nothing can compare to the way her pulse hums and her heartbeat thrusts as he murmurs her name into the thickness of her tousled mane. His name is sung from where her baited breath envelopes each strangled word from her vocal cords, plucked and spoken with every fluid motion of his muscled hips and with each hard, possessive kiss pressed across the dappling of her dampened indigo flesh.

  And all at once – the zealous desire beneath his kiss, the possessive bruising of his lips and teeth along her neck, the way her name is moaned with restless, insatiable need – she is unbound, trembling beneath him as her core tightens around him. Rhythmic, the rapid, tireless beat of her heart pulsates in time around his length, clenching and grasping, drawing him in deeper while she suffocates the small, insufferable piece of her that feels that he is hers; that she is his - stifling it for its inherent weakness, starving it of oxygen, as she herself becomes breathless for it.

@[Gryffen]