08-23-2017, 08:52 PM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
His breath is ragged and wheezing as he lingers in the shadows, his dark and ravenous gaze unwavering as he watches her. He does not show himself and remains hidden, because he knows she will eventually find him – they always do.
His pearlescent lips curl into a sinister grin as he pinpoints the exact moment that she realizes that she is being watched. Her muscles become taut beneath the shimmer of her dark skin, but other than that, she shows no fear.
Yet.
“Ask and you shall receive,” he croons, his voice metal and unruly as it leaves the deep crevice of his throat. He emerges from the depths of his hiding place, a once colt now full fledged stallion, his body lean and sinewy from his many days spent in the water. Long and tangled, his mane and forelock have dried crisp against the curve of his neck and the hardened, emotionless lines of his face. With his maturity, Maugrim had practiced the art of flattery and flirtatious conversation, keeping his prey entertained with his handsome features and unusual charm – a rehearsed and robotic practice, none of which was real – merely a ploy.
She had come to the water and now so has he, his legs disappearing as he enters the cool spray, liquefying his once evergreen legs into clear, wavering water. At his knees he becomes solid again, standing perfectly still and especially close to her despite their just being strangers.
“I’ve seen those before,” he murmurs, his dark eyes shifting down towards the thin, clear membranes that have sprouted from her tail, floating in the ocean’s surf. In his many ventures to the bottom of the sea, the stallion had seen tentacles more than once in his life, though never on a creature that looked like her. He reaches forward, curious as he will always be, and touches his pale and cracked lips to a tentacle that lays quietly on the skin of her smooth neck.
The stinging sensation does not cause him to jump back in surprise; he only smiles deviously, his lips lingering on the crackling of the stinging tentacle, enjoying the numbness that now throbs on his mouth. He moves his burning lips away from the membranes and slowly traces the soft slop of her shoulder, soothing the burns with the sweet taste of her salt-dried skin.
His pearlescent lips curl into a sinister grin as he pinpoints the exact moment that she realizes that she is being watched. Her muscles become taut beneath the shimmer of her dark skin, but other than that, she shows no fear.
Yet.
“Ask and you shall receive,” he croons, his voice metal and unruly as it leaves the deep crevice of his throat. He emerges from the depths of his hiding place, a once colt now full fledged stallion, his body lean and sinewy from his many days spent in the water. Long and tangled, his mane and forelock have dried crisp against the curve of his neck and the hardened, emotionless lines of his face. With his maturity, Maugrim had practiced the art of flattery and flirtatious conversation, keeping his prey entertained with his handsome features and unusual charm – a rehearsed and robotic practice, none of which was real – merely a ploy.
She had come to the water and now so has he, his legs disappearing as he enters the cool spray, liquefying his once evergreen legs into clear, wavering water. At his knees he becomes solid again, standing perfectly still and especially close to her despite their just being strangers.
“I’ve seen those before,” he murmurs, his dark eyes shifting down towards the thin, clear membranes that have sprouted from her tail, floating in the ocean’s surf. In his many ventures to the bottom of the sea, the stallion had seen tentacles more than once in his life, though never on a creature that looked like her. He reaches forward, curious as he will always be, and touches his pale and cracked lips to a tentacle that lays quietly on the skin of her smooth neck.
The stinging sensation does not cause him to jump back in surprise; he only smiles deviously, his lips lingering on the crackling of the stinging tentacle, enjoying the numbness that now throbs on his mouth. He moves his burning lips away from the membranes and slowly traces the soft slop of her shoulder, soothing the burns with the sweet taste of her salt-dried skin.
m a u g r i m.
@[Dynast]