Sorry for the wait m'darling <3
Word Count → +355
Every touch, every brush, every breath felt wonderful.
It was if she was in a dream, something unreal. Something that wasn't meant for her. Feeling the soft touch of his lips against her soft neck fur and collarbone made the places where she had been caressed tingle. Oh, how badly she wanted him to keep kisses lower. She gave a soft, quiet yip as now she was lying in the grass, black hair sprawled out underneath her. As his large form hovered over the woman Fia let out a gentle gasp. He looked magnificent. Bright blue eyes looked him over slowly, watching as his black curly fur dangled down and around the white fae. He looked like an angel, but a rare one. A black angel, who was good. An angel who was so rare, so unique that only a slightly discolored angel as herself would fit.
Fia would never forget this night. She never could. She never would let herself forget. Ever. "I love you, Gunnar Donte LeStrange, always and forever" She murmured, before bringing him down gently. She kissed his chest softly, her gentle lips trailing on his muscular form. She kissed lower, down to right below his belly button before moving back up to kiss his muzzle.
She pulled him even closer, wanting so much. The fae trailed her finger tips along the base of his spine, moving up and down slowly before dragging her finger from the small of his back all the way up to his ear. Him so close to her, feeling his breath on her neck made all her senses tingle and that excitement grow larger. He smelled of the forest, the large evergreens and the bare, dry leaves. He smelled of the sweet winter, and his own musky but delicate scent. She kissed his neck softly, before reaching her neck upwards slightly to lightly kiss his ears. Breast to breast, thigh to thigh, she made a soft sound of pleasure, her voice a soft lullaby. With him, tonight, was the best feeling in the world. Nothing, nothing, could beat this moment. The curve of his muzzle. The way his eyes looked at her. The way he stood. The way he walked with her beloved limp. The way his voice could change from scratchy and seemingly harsh to soft and loving. The way he held and kissed her. The way he treated her like she was a delicate piece of glass that couldn't be dropped no matter what.
He. Was. Perfect. And best of all, he was hers.
Table by Aly, code by the Mentors!
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