[P] [M] Too hot? Hot damn, call the po-lice and the firemen
Guinevere
#3

WARNING: This thread contains material exceeding the general board rating of PG-13. It may contain very strong language, drug usage, graphic violence, or graphic sexual content. Reader discretion is advised.

Specifically, this thread is marked mature because of: there be smut here.
[+000]
Ooc: Wordtober Day 10: nocturnal
She did not disappoint, gliding towards him with determination locked there in her stare. Though some small part of him was bereft of another chance to revel in the chasing of her, the pattern of the Game was well and truly gone now, he would have his many Tomorrows to chase her across the grass and heather, to play at being the monster.

Neither of them was of the mind to offer up the white flag anymore, that coherency was long past them now. It would be Take and Give, of seed and blood and strength, a devotion unbound from its civility.

He was nothing but the excitement in his chest and the desire blossoming in his loins and she was the only thing he could see. The pale man gave a sound, sharp and hoarse, as she reached him and bent her head to attend him. Shifting restlessly against the familiar furs of their bed.

They were nothing but gold and green, meeting in the dimness and shattering sparks into the dissolution of the world. His was an exhale of breath, tautly bound and he could stay here forever and ever, with her rising above him, a match for his own ceaseless arrogance without hesitation or issue.

Guinevere had his hand, to do with what she would, and the probing quest of her tongue against his fingers was a jolt below his skin, flaming along his nerves, and with a will of their own his hips were pressing upwards, in futile frustration along with the rumbling growl of his own, searching blindly for what he knew was there. It was she who made the first, delicious, move.

His barked cry was loud in the relative quiet of their house, echoing in the spaces, and she was, she was… hot, far too hot sliding down over his flesh, and he was burning alive, and he didn’t care, bracing his feet against the furs, and undulating with the whole of himself, fording up, and up and in and through, the entirety of himself falling away to just… this.

There was no looking away, not even to glance at where they joined, Honrin was captured within the fall of her eyes, drowning in their succor.

He laced his fingers with her own, holding on tightly, and gasped as her claws dug into his skin, following her thoughts as she dipped away just for a moment, just to glare, heatedly, at the scars on his chest. He was lost in that moment before she returned to him, and though he raised an eyebrow, meeting her boldness and daring with his own, he could not tell her in this moment that there was no name or face to the scars. The other woman having been so unimportant as to be forgotten entirely.

“Y-yours..” Honrin agreed plaintively, breathlessly, voice twisting, stuttering, and rising on a whine. He had been hers, from the moment she’d twisted her nose at him outside his Wetu. He’d just not known it till much later, the blockhead that he was.

His free arm looped about her slender waist, grabbing tight and pulling her down on him as he thrust up, power reigning in every motion, their bodies jerking as she hit bottom again and again. The slap of their thighs a complimentary sound to the harshness of breathing, the gasps and grunts and groans he gave for her without shame. Their nocturnal activities were all that he needed, this and her love would drown him in joy.

Every twist of her hand in his fur drove him higher, higher, to touch the skies, and he became aware with a faint sort of desperation that he wasn’t going to last much longer. It, she, was too much, reducing him to nothing more than his basest senses, the building blocks of himself, whisking away his cares and worries.

“I.. ahh..”

He was just one man, one mortal man, to worship at the temple of a goddess. Who was he to attempt to grasp at the aurora before his time.

It was building low in his loins, rapidly wrenched from him with straining pleasure.

“Guin… G- Guin.” He begged her name to the warm dimness, pleading in desperate tones, and tightened his grips on her, hand and waist, hauling her up against him, closer, and buried his face in her chest, muffling the pleasure-pained sound he made with her fur.

His last thrusts were erratic and hard, filling her with the entirety of himself, until there was no parting or pulling away. Starlight burst behind his closed eyes as he shuddered and sucked in furious breaths, losing himself within her in a warm rush, the first of more to come, he was sure.

He would never let her go, never, ever and clung to her as tight as he could without doing her harm.

“Oh God..” Honrin mumbled against her fur, his tongue hanging loose and free, panting harshly. He had lost his head and spilled himself far too soon, like the heartstrong teenager he’d once been, and yet, it was her, it was all her, drilling away at his core of control.

Pulling back his head, though for the moment they were stuck fast and tight, it had not diminished the heat in his eyes, nor the fire in his body, he looked her full in the face.

“Kiss me..” Honrin commanded in a deep, fathomless tone, and, without waiting for her, set his fingers to her hair and pulled her face down to his, kissing her as he had earlier, hard and solidly, soulfully; and as before, his hand, once disentangled, wormed its way between them, and began to rub sly, teasing circles about the center of her pleasure. The indignity of losing himself so quickly was one thing, he’d not suffer her to remain shackled by it as they waited for nature to unclench.

~~~


Messages In This Thread
RE: [M] Too hot? Hot damn, call the po-lice and the firemen - by Honrin Wolfe-Denahlii - 10 October 2021, 01:39 PM

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