10-15-2017, 09:05 PM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
The sunlight can barely be seen through the dense foliage, though the dismal gray and pitchless black of her sharp gaze searches the thick canopy for the pale, subtle streaks of light – bathing her in fragments of warmth, alluring for some but not at all for her. The sun is too high in the sky for time to have escaped her, and a faint, but wicked smile pulls at the corner of her dark lips at the thought.
She had always been agile, but the wolf within her prowled with ease, moving seamlessly through the dark and insidious shadow of evenfall in a way that she never could otherwise, and there is sheer delight stirring the hefty pitter-patter of her shriveled, callous little heart. Dusk had been most productive, and she yearned to impart the knowledge of her clever abduction with another; with the one who would see the brilliance of her ability and share in her wicked glee.
It does not take her long to find him – her teeth, unsheathed to be that of a carnivore, press against the paleness of his skin, raking slowly along the curve of his spine as her cheek caresses the ridge of his shoulder, placing a soft kiss along the warmth of his skin before lightly sinking her teeth into his supple flesh. Longing to taste him, to part the imperfection of his marred skin to see the seeping scarlet that lay beneath – but her desire could not be sated alone by sins of the flesh; she is writhing against him and pressing soft, urgent kisses along the column of his neck as her slender, shapely legs practically dance in place with wry, mischievous elation.
Her scent is heavy as the frigidity of autumn begins to seep into the woodland, caressing the brittle bark of hickory and maple while lacing it with an iciness that would decay and destroy the intensity of the foliage and leave nothing but dry and twisted branches in its wake. It could only come with a change of season and the unyielding passage of time, but it is not sexual gratification that she is seeking – no, she yearns for his sadistic satisfaction, to give him a pleasure that only she and he savored more than carnal desire.
Destruction.
”Come with me,” she coos to him, as the dreary gray of her eye searches the fervent crimson of his own, while her pale ivory forelock falls in the way of her soulful, meaningful stare. Her shoulder brushes against his own while the shadow of her legs carry her deeper into the woodland – where her captive remained, bound and waiting. ”I have brought you a gift.”
She had always been agile, but the wolf within her prowled with ease, moving seamlessly through the dark and insidious shadow of evenfall in a way that she never could otherwise, and there is sheer delight stirring the hefty pitter-patter of her shriveled, callous little heart. Dusk had been most productive, and she yearned to impart the knowledge of her clever abduction with another; with the one who would see the brilliance of her ability and share in her wicked glee.
It does not take her long to find him – her teeth, unsheathed to be that of a carnivore, press against the paleness of his skin, raking slowly along the curve of his spine as her cheek caresses the ridge of his shoulder, placing a soft kiss along the warmth of his skin before lightly sinking her teeth into his supple flesh. Longing to taste him, to part the imperfection of his marred skin to see the seeping scarlet that lay beneath – but her desire could not be sated alone by sins of the flesh; she is writhing against him and pressing soft, urgent kisses along the column of his neck as her slender, shapely legs practically dance in place with wry, mischievous elation.
Her scent is heavy as the frigidity of autumn begins to seep into the woodland, caressing the brittle bark of hickory and maple while lacing it with an iciness that would decay and destroy the intensity of the foliage and leave nothing but dry and twisted branches in its wake. It could only come with a change of season and the unyielding passage of time, but it is not sexual gratification that she is seeking – no, she yearns for his sadistic satisfaction, to give him a pleasure that only she and he savored more than carnal desire.
Destruction.
”Come with me,” she coos to him, as the dreary gray of her eye searches the fervent crimson of his own, while her pale ivory forelock falls in the way of her soulful, meaningful stare. Her shoulder brushes against his own while the shadow of her legs carry her deeper into the woodland – where her captive remained, bound and waiting. ”I have brought you a gift.”