10-17-2017, 04:42 PM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
She, lacking emotion, lacking empathy, would sooner spill his sordid, vile blood onto the woodland floor, if it were not for the potential held within the dangerous gleam of his eye. She cannot be so easily manipulated, nor drawn to impulsive reaction – her heart is a callous and shriveled thing, beating roughly within her chest with the sheer adrenaline of his presence, of the challenge that lay before her – prone and waiting. She does not bristle with resistance, nor with assertion – she merely yearns to feel his bones shift beneath her weight; feel his pulse quicken while her teeth thrum the delicate vocal cords deep within his gasping throat.
There is only one with the capability of seeping beneath her skin, sending it crawling, roiling in discomfort, and even he -- the keeper of whatever blackened part of her he had taken, that she had given -- would not be untouchable to her, should he betray her. She had tasted his blood beneath her wanton tongue before – she would shed it again, if the sharpened blade of his treachery were to plunge in between her rigid rib cage, twisted and taut. Yet, she is unwavering. Devoted. Steadfast and true – as he is to her.
She does not doubt that Gryffen, too, would end her, if she disappointed him – if she no longer sought his affection, his praise and his satisfaction. Their relationship was nothing if not a tangled web of complexity – she could destroy him, and he could destroy her, and though neither speak such truth aloud, there is a gentle undertone in each possessive, fervent kiss – in every intimidate moment. She hungered for his intensity, and he craved her loyalty.
She cannot keep the twisted, mischievous smile from spreading over thin, dark lipss, while his flesh lay supple within her mouth, while a deep hackle emerges from the hearth of her chest. He is not one to lie down without a fight, and a coo of delight reverberates against the warmth of his skin, where the soft tuft of fur caught between her powerful jaws tickles the top of her ridged mouth.
Her weight pressed onto his own body does have a disadvantage – he can hurl his weight away from her own, rolling onto his back while long, spread claws lunge out to rake against her tender underbelly, but she is not foolish enough to maintain her resilient grasp onto his neck to permit him to draw her on top of him to make her lose her balance.
His hind leg does rake hard, elongated claws against her rib cage, rousing a snarl of disdain from her open maw as blood is undoubtedly drawn along her torso, while her teeth are bared and gnashing ravenously at his neck – no longer at the nape, but at the very raw, vulnerable surface of his throat. All the while, her wicked smile remains, while a large paw lunges to press onto his larynx, to suffocate him and render him useless beneath her. He is impervious to her gnashing teeth, to her angry claws, but is he so untouchable, should she crush his windpipe?
All around them, the woodland thrums still, while the boulders, branches and bones vibrate in the stagnant air of evenfall, spinning faster and faster around them.
”Do you like that, Crevan? Do you like calling me mother? I could be your mama,” she croons as her teeth rake along his ear, intoxicated by the scent of his tension and elation both. ”all you have to do is ask.”
There is only one with the capability of seeping beneath her skin, sending it crawling, roiling in discomfort, and even he -- the keeper of whatever blackened part of her he had taken, that she had given -- would not be untouchable to her, should he betray her. She had tasted his blood beneath her wanton tongue before – she would shed it again, if the sharpened blade of his treachery were to plunge in between her rigid rib cage, twisted and taut. Yet, she is unwavering. Devoted. Steadfast and true – as he is to her.
She does not doubt that Gryffen, too, would end her, if she disappointed him – if she no longer sought his affection, his praise and his satisfaction. Their relationship was nothing if not a tangled web of complexity – she could destroy him, and he could destroy her, and though neither speak such truth aloud, there is a gentle undertone in each possessive, fervent kiss – in every intimidate moment. She hungered for his intensity, and he craved her loyalty.
She cannot keep the twisted, mischievous smile from spreading over thin, dark lipss, while his flesh lay supple within her mouth, while a deep hackle emerges from the hearth of her chest. He is not one to lie down without a fight, and a coo of delight reverberates against the warmth of his skin, where the soft tuft of fur caught between her powerful jaws tickles the top of her ridged mouth.
Her weight pressed onto his own body does have a disadvantage – he can hurl his weight away from her own, rolling onto his back while long, spread claws lunge out to rake against her tender underbelly, but she is not foolish enough to maintain her resilient grasp onto his neck to permit him to draw her on top of him to make her lose her balance.
His hind leg does rake hard, elongated claws against her rib cage, rousing a snarl of disdain from her open maw as blood is undoubtedly drawn along her torso, while her teeth are bared and gnashing ravenously at his neck – no longer at the nape, but at the very raw, vulnerable surface of his throat. All the while, her wicked smile remains, while a large paw lunges to press onto his larynx, to suffocate him and render him useless beneath her. He is impervious to her gnashing teeth, to her angry claws, but is he so untouchable, should she crush his windpipe?
All around them, the woodland thrums still, while the boulders, branches and bones vibrate in the stagnant air of evenfall, spinning faster and faster around them.
”Do you like that, Crevan? Do you like calling me mother? I could be your mama,” she croons as her teeth rake along his ear, intoxicated by the scent of his tension and elation both. ”all you have to do is ask.”
@[Crevan]