10-16-2017, 11:47 PM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
She would devour him whole, if she could.
She felt the tension rise within the heaviness of the air, and she felt his muscles roll beneath her soft but lascivious kisses, pressed against the taut length of his neck and along the tightened ridge of his jaw. She knew how deeply he desired her, to covet her and to lay claim to what was his, and just as possessively as she had proclaimed him hers, he had wordlessly made her his own, time and time again – but it is not sexual gratification that she has sought, and she cannot conceal the wry smile and soft crooning squeal from her throat when his teeth nip forcefully at her hip in disdain.
He stirred beneath her affection, and there is no doubt within her mind that he has hardened with need, yearning for her intimately – but she is assured by her own instinct that the illicit pleasure of her revelation would give him a satisfaction that sins born of the flesh never could. She is tempted to give pause, to give herself to him as he desired her to, but there is a small part of her that so deeply craves his approval, his delight and contentment – and though blood, violence, and passionate trysts had placated his darkest desire, she is all too aware that to secure herself within the darkest recesses of his wicked mind, she must go beyond --
She must prove to him that she is all that he requires –
Loyalty, brilliance, and darkness, carefully woven into her mischievous gaze and her impish mind. She yearned to push the proverbial envelope, to go further than any other dared to – she would do anything that he asked of her (anything at all; her will was his whim) and that is the depth of her unwavering devotion that has drawn her to him with such fervent temptation, but it is her sly wit and clever ingenuity that will keep her at his side.
Indispensable.
The eye to his hurricane – the ferocity of a dark and formidable storm; the ravenous tide to his roiling sea.
When recognition is lit within the darkness of his scarlet gaze – like a flickering ember, burning into a raging inferno of delight – she is satisfied, her glee and satisfaction filtering through her veins and setting her sensitive nerve endings alight. There is disbelief lingering in the darkness of his stare, soon becoming the exhilaration she longed to see. His mouth is ravenous, pressing and nipping at her indigo skin and she croons softly to him, brushing her dark lips across his cheek.
”For you. Have I pleased you?” she murmurs, her mouth twisted in a wry and wicked smile, her gaze a emblazoned with a fire of her own. ”I found her in Nerine – I heard rumor that your sister lay just beyond the border, and I followed the trail. It did not take long to find her. I have made the Queen aware of our capture, and I have advised her that should she like to see her again, she should make her presence known during our .. celebration.” She pauses then, the warmth of her breath linger across her cheek, desire stirring within her belly at the sheer thought of what was to come.
”Tell me, Gryffen,” and her voice is low, laced with arousal for a reason that is so far beyond her own physical need – ignoring the gentle plea hidden within the feigned calm collective of her captive’s tone. ”tell me – what shall we do with her?”
She felt the tension rise within the heaviness of the air, and she felt his muscles roll beneath her soft but lascivious kisses, pressed against the taut length of his neck and along the tightened ridge of his jaw. She knew how deeply he desired her, to covet her and to lay claim to what was his, and just as possessively as she had proclaimed him hers, he had wordlessly made her his own, time and time again – but it is not sexual gratification that she has sought, and she cannot conceal the wry smile and soft crooning squeal from her throat when his teeth nip forcefully at her hip in disdain.
He stirred beneath her affection, and there is no doubt within her mind that he has hardened with need, yearning for her intimately – but she is assured by her own instinct that the illicit pleasure of her revelation would give him a satisfaction that sins born of the flesh never could. She is tempted to give pause, to give herself to him as he desired her to, but there is a small part of her that so deeply craves his approval, his delight and contentment – and though blood, violence, and passionate trysts had placated his darkest desire, she is all too aware that to secure herself within the darkest recesses of his wicked mind, she must go beyond --
She must prove to him that she is all that he requires –
Loyalty, brilliance, and darkness, carefully woven into her mischievous gaze and her impish mind. She yearned to push the proverbial envelope, to go further than any other dared to – she would do anything that he asked of her (anything at all; her will was his whim) and that is the depth of her unwavering devotion that has drawn her to him with such fervent temptation, but it is her sly wit and clever ingenuity that will keep her at his side.
Indispensable.
The eye to his hurricane – the ferocity of a dark and formidable storm; the ravenous tide to his roiling sea.
When recognition is lit within the darkness of his scarlet gaze – like a flickering ember, burning into a raging inferno of delight – she is satisfied, her glee and satisfaction filtering through her veins and setting her sensitive nerve endings alight. There is disbelief lingering in the darkness of his stare, soon becoming the exhilaration she longed to see. His mouth is ravenous, pressing and nipping at her indigo skin and she croons softly to him, brushing her dark lips across his cheek.
”For you. Have I pleased you?” she murmurs, her mouth twisted in a wry and wicked smile, her gaze a emblazoned with a fire of her own. ”I found her in Nerine – I heard rumor that your sister lay just beyond the border, and I followed the trail. It did not take long to find her. I have made the Queen aware of our capture, and I have advised her that should she like to see her again, she should make her presence known during our .. celebration.” She pauses then, the warmth of her breath linger across her cheek, desire stirring within her belly at the sheer thought of what was to come.
”Tell me, Gryffen,” and her voice is low, laced with arousal for a reason that is so far beyond her own physical need – ignoring the gentle plea hidden within the feigned calm collective of her captive’s tone. ”tell me – what shall we do with her?”
@[Gryffen]