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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  I make the Devil go weak in the knees || Merida ||
    #11

    Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow

    CREVAN

    There’d been a whole side to living that he’d been missing while maintaining a pure, abstinent culture. Immortality had made him blind to the plight of the common man or his interests and, when he takes the black mare with a throaty roar, Crevan can suddenly see just how ignorant he’s been. All this time

    All this time he could’ve been chasing her through the shadows and the light to have it end like this: astride the beautiful female, his broad, coppery-brown chest fitting against the dip of her back as he discovered every inch of her - inside and out. “Merida …” The stallion grunts, a cross of something painful and something pleasurable. Inbetween his forelegs, her obsidian-colored belly stretches wide and he lowers his mouth (sharp now, glistening with teeth that mean to puncture) towards her withers.

    From behind her he still drives; a wolf that hungers for more with each thrust, slavering in a heat of sex-crazed madness that pushes him nearer to a release but, when his strong hips quiver at the edge, he slows and focus overtakes him. This moment, it needs prolonging; the shifter (though still a thoughtless creature) cares more for his mate than himself and, for that reason alone, it becomes his desire for the fiery vixen to be satisfied as well.

    There’s no rush. Crevan moans sincere praises like prayers over the ridges of her shoulders, where he hopes they might stick as red flecks on Merida’s tender pelt, and in the same stroke he explores her fully, reveling in the feel of her body and complete trust. “You and I.” He tells the she-fox, “For as long as I live.”

    Having said his peace, the sharp discomfort of his fanged bite should come as no surprise to the once nomadic mare. All the same her partner executes the deed expertly, pricking - no, marking her and holding fast for the end he could no longer keep at bay, which comes in a burst of motion and a deep exhalation on his part. Has anything ever felt so wonderful? The Hellraiser thinks, knowing the answer as quickly as the thought arrives.

    Speechless, exhausted, and somewhat giddy, the beast slides reluctantly from his perch atop Merida and stands squarely at her hind, rubbing a sweaty and appreciative head against her raven-tinted hindquarters. “You’re going to drive me crazy, woman.” The male laughs, husky with desire already. “I hope you understand what kind of chaos you’ve let loose.”



    @[Merida] Crevan: Rise of the Sexually Repressed Man-Child; in theaters this August. Not yet rated.
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