01-06-2018, 10:03 AM
god make me pay
like the devil i am
like the devil i am
The smell of sex and sweat permeates the air, and Maugrim grunts with satisfaction knowing that his scent covers her once again, soaking into her pores and leaving a reminder to her (and others) of the terror that resides in Ischia’s clear waters.
Deathwish is as enamored with their engagement as he, rocking and moving beneath him expertly and wildly, assisting his efforts as they writhe together in the waters. She latches onto him in a trill of desire (though for death or sex, it is impossible to tell), and he gasps as her teeth sink into his neck, ears falling flat into his mane. She pulls him close, somehow creating a situation where she is now the one in control, wildly pulling and pushing beneath him while the rest of him rots away to nothingness, putrid skin and decay poisoning the clear waters around them. The pain is tremendous, so much so that he almost wishes she would just kill him instead. It does not take him long to be where she wants him - emptying into her with rugged groans, eyes rolling into his head.
When she is sure there is nothing left of him, she squeals and releases him from her teeth. She uses him again, for her own pleasure, and his pearlescent muzzle nips at her shoulders as she rocks beneath him again.
He drapes his neck over her, panting as a sleepiness begins to come over him that leaves him atop her for the moment, resting his weight on her as he attempts to regain his strength and mind. She brings him back, restoring the damage she had laced on his body with a tenderness that is almost endearing, his haunches solidifying once again and skin forming over flesh and bone. He is renewed each time he meets with her, a new and stronger version of what he was before.
The water begins to recede, leaving them stinking of their own bodily fluids and salt, tinged with the smell of the Ischian sunlight. Almost reluctantly, the stallion slides from atop her, his nostrils flaring as he rests his muzzle at the base of her tail, picking at her with his teeth gently. A deep nicker resounds within him (foreboding to others, but Deathwish would know better) as he traces the quivering of her pale thigh, salty kisses pressing fervently into her skin.
“You will know where to find me.”
And with that, Maugrim melts into the shallows below them, pushing himself out to sea where the darkness will enshroud him and he will rest and hunt - until next time.
Deathwish is as enamored with their engagement as he, rocking and moving beneath him expertly and wildly, assisting his efforts as they writhe together in the waters. She latches onto him in a trill of desire (though for death or sex, it is impossible to tell), and he gasps as her teeth sink into his neck, ears falling flat into his mane. She pulls him close, somehow creating a situation where she is now the one in control, wildly pulling and pushing beneath him while the rest of him rots away to nothingness, putrid skin and decay poisoning the clear waters around them. The pain is tremendous, so much so that he almost wishes she would just kill him instead. It does not take him long to be where she wants him - emptying into her with rugged groans, eyes rolling into his head.
When she is sure there is nothing left of him, she squeals and releases him from her teeth. She uses him again, for her own pleasure, and his pearlescent muzzle nips at her shoulders as she rocks beneath him again.
He drapes his neck over her, panting as a sleepiness begins to come over him that leaves him atop her for the moment, resting his weight on her as he attempts to regain his strength and mind. She brings him back, restoring the damage she had laced on his body with a tenderness that is almost endearing, his haunches solidifying once again and skin forming over flesh and bone. He is renewed each time he meets with her, a new and stronger version of what he was before.
The water begins to recede, leaving them stinking of their own bodily fluids and salt, tinged with the smell of the Ischian sunlight. Almost reluctantly, the stallion slides from atop her, his nostrils flaring as he rests his muzzle at the base of her tail, picking at her with his teeth gently. A deep nicker resounds within him (foreboding to others, but Deathwish would know better) as he traces the quivering of her pale thigh, salty kisses pressing fervently into her skin.
“You will know where to find me.”
And with that, Maugrim melts into the shallows below them, pushing himself out to sea where the darkness will enshroud him and he will rest and hunt - until next time.
m a u g r i m.
@[Deathwish]