11-15-2017, 11:39 PM
THANA.
(as black as your soul)
”He is not you,” she murmurs softly to him as his teeth graze over the tenderness of her skin. ”he is nothing.” She breathes as his jaw presses into the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt and sin that lay within the crease, where her pulse fiercely thrums beneath his touch. Her want is so deep that she cannot contain her breathlessness when his lips brush down the column to her neck and along the curve of her shoulder, where tissue lay bare and where dried, flaking blood clutches precariously to the ridge of bone beneath. It is a delicious anguish, to be reminded of the raw and festering wound, to feel the warmth of his breath drift across where another had drawn blood in the heat of a carnal embrace. His touch causes her flesh to flinch, to recoil, though she is crooning softly at the sheer delight her own pain has brought her.
Gryffen had once been selfish, himself – sowing his seed carelessly and bringing himself to completion with the supple flesh of another pinned beneath the heat and weight of his body, never caring for the pleasure of another. Perhaps, with any other, he might still be selfish – but with her? Each time his lips press into the shadow beneath her thigh, each time his tongue caresses the inner folds where she quivers and gasps his name in erotic delight, she is made aware that he is as lost within her pleasure as she is lost within his. When his legs draw her near to sheathe himself inside of her, intent on burying his seed within her and only giving into his own desire after she has begun to unravel beneath him, the intensity is intoxicating. Trembling, lost to the ecstasy of each smooth stroke and fervent whisper and –
”Only you,” she gasps softly when he caresses the most intimate part of her with the paleness of his lips, pulling away from her while she is writhing to be closer to him. She can feel the fervent pressure building within her tightened core, and she cannot contain the sensuality of each long, drawn-out moan, whimper and gasp that emerges from her throat. There is no demure glance; no coy smile offered to the malevolent wraith that held whatever dark and broken part of her he laid claim to. She is swollen, tender, aching for fulfillment, fully immersed into the heat causing her thighs to dampen so heavily with need, causing her tender folds to blossom and quiver with each languid caress.
I know, he murmurs against her flushed skin with a wicked smile, and a shiver unfurls from the coiled muscle of her thigh, spreading slowly and leaving her heartbeat ragged. The burden of his weight settled onto her heightens her desire for him, anticipation roiling uncomfortably within the coiled knot of her belly, longing to be undone by him as it had been time and time again. Slowly, he presses himself closer to her, aligning himself so that the heat of his pulse is flush against the fervor of her own while a wicked smile graces her dark mouth.
A soft gasp emerges from her parted lips while he ensnares a tangled lock of hair between his teeth, drawing her neck back and pulling her closer. Instinctually, her hips undulate, rocking against the tidal wave of pleasure roiling through her. He breathes behind her, against her. When he finally does take her, plunging into the depth of her desire for him, it is soaring, agonizing perfection that causes her to cry out his name in the deep, darkness of the still smoking woodland. Lashes fluttering across the darkness of her cheek, she is shuddering with each slow and tantalizingly sensual motion. He does not simply fuck her – he ravishes her and leaves her bitten, bruised, spent and trembling for more.
Slow and steady rivulets of pleasurable completion weave through her, pulling with it particles of her self-awareness as she is spun closer to the celestial sky draped over the dark canopy of hickory and pine. Every thrust separates her further from the dangerous, sinful darkness inside of her that blackens her wicked and wayward soul. She is taken by him, enthralled by him, enraptured by him, and nothing can compare to the way her pulse hums and her heartbeat thrusts as he murmurs her name into the thickness of her tousled mane. His name is sung from where her baited breath envelopes each strangled word from her vocal cords, plucked and spoken with every fluid motion of his muscled hips and with each hard, possessive kiss pressed across the dappling of her dampened indigo flesh.
And all at once – the zealous desire beneath his kiss, the possessive bruising of his lips and teeth along her neck, the way her name is moaned with restless, insatiable need – she is unbound, trembling beneath him as her core tightens around him. Rhythmic, the rapid, tireless beat of her heart pulsates in time around his length, clenching and grasping, drawing him in deeper while she suffocates the small, insufferable piece of her that feels that he is hers; that she is his - stifling it for its inherent weakness, starving it of oxygen, as she herself becomes breathless for it.
Gryffen had once been selfish, himself – sowing his seed carelessly and bringing himself to completion with the supple flesh of another pinned beneath the heat and weight of his body, never caring for the pleasure of another. Perhaps, with any other, he might still be selfish – but with her? Each time his lips press into the shadow beneath her thigh, each time his tongue caresses the inner folds where she quivers and gasps his name in erotic delight, she is made aware that he is as lost within her pleasure as she is lost within his. When his legs draw her near to sheathe himself inside of her, intent on burying his seed within her and only giving into his own desire after she has begun to unravel beneath him, the intensity is intoxicating. Trembling, lost to the ecstasy of each smooth stroke and fervent whisper and –
”Only you,” she gasps softly when he caresses the most intimate part of her with the paleness of his lips, pulling away from her while she is writhing to be closer to him. She can feel the fervent pressure building within her tightened core, and she cannot contain the sensuality of each long, drawn-out moan, whimper and gasp that emerges from her throat. There is no demure glance; no coy smile offered to the malevolent wraith that held whatever dark and broken part of her he laid claim to. She is swollen, tender, aching for fulfillment, fully immersed into the heat causing her thighs to dampen so heavily with need, causing her tender folds to blossom and quiver with each languid caress.
I know, he murmurs against her flushed skin with a wicked smile, and a shiver unfurls from the coiled muscle of her thigh, spreading slowly and leaving her heartbeat ragged. The burden of his weight settled onto her heightens her desire for him, anticipation roiling uncomfortably within the coiled knot of her belly, longing to be undone by him as it had been time and time again. Slowly, he presses himself closer to her, aligning himself so that the heat of his pulse is flush against the fervor of her own while a wicked smile graces her dark mouth.
A soft gasp emerges from her parted lips while he ensnares a tangled lock of hair between his teeth, drawing her neck back and pulling her closer. Instinctually, her hips undulate, rocking against the tidal wave of pleasure roiling through her. He breathes behind her, against her. When he finally does take her, plunging into the depth of her desire for him, it is soaring, agonizing perfection that causes her to cry out his name in the deep, darkness of the still smoking woodland. Lashes fluttering across the darkness of her cheek, she is shuddering with each slow and tantalizingly sensual motion. He does not simply fuck her – he ravishes her and leaves her bitten, bruised, spent and trembling for more.
Slow and steady rivulets of pleasurable completion weave through her, pulling with it particles of her self-awareness as she is spun closer to the celestial sky draped over the dark canopy of hickory and pine. Every thrust separates her further from the dangerous, sinful darkness inside of her that blackens her wicked and wayward soul. She is taken by him, enthralled by him, enraptured by him, and nothing can compare to the way her pulse hums and her heartbeat thrusts as he murmurs her name into the thickness of her tousled mane. His name is sung from where her baited breath envelopes each strangled word from her vocal cords, plucked and spoken with every fluid motion of his muscled hips and with each hard, possessive kiss pressed across the dappling of her dampened indigo flesh.
And all at once – the zealous desire beneath his kiss, the possessive bruising of his lips and teeth along her neck, the way her name is moaned with restless, insatiable need – she is unbound, trembling beneath him as her core tightens around him. Rhythmic, the rapid, tireless beat of her heart pulsates in time around his length, clenching and grasping, drawing him in deeper while she suffocates the small, insufferable piece of her that feels that he is hers; that she is his - stifling it for its inherent weakness, starving it of oxygen, as she herself becomes breathless for it.
@[Gryffen]