11-10-2017, 11:53 AM
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.”
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]