06-03-2009, 01:50 AM
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500+
He smiled then, and she knew that everything was fine. He held her close. There was a quiet relief that calmed her soul as he negated such doubt, that he had simply wanted to hear it. With a soft smile she gave him that kiss that was sought, her woad bound fingers gently touching his neck, feeling the fur and the pulse beneath them. And while she felt that he did indeed did not doubt her, there was that lingering feeling of dread. Perhaps one day something would push her too far, pushing her over the brink and into a dark abyss. She was born of rape, and she did not doubt that her mother’s rage had burned through her veins even as the darkness released his seed. She was conceived of those things, of darkness and rage, and it was said that such things were given to the child conceived. She was that child. How was it that corruption had not yet settled within her heart? And if something did push her too far, she feared that she would not be able to return. But then, she had Onus. And so she kissed him, holding onto him with that quiet soul, needing him there with her in a way she had not been able to recognize before. It was as if this would be the last time she could spend with him.
A soft, sighed moan escaped her as he switched their places, holding her carefully with the controlled strength of those arms. As she lay there beneath him, the woman relinquished her hold on him, simply looking up, taking that quiet pleasure in simply watching him. Her eyes met his gaze. I do love you, the woman thought in the silence, more than anything. Whatever physical act of lust she had partaken, the woman had been satisfying a curiosity, exploring both the body and the mind. This would be the first time that she had been taken again by a man, but then she had never loved another before. Intrigue was not the same—it was the lesser cousin of love. And while, for a woman, such an act was not purely physical, no true connection had been made. Here, with him, everything was real. Everything was certain. Beneath him, the woman could allow her thoughts fall away. The woman did not think of herself. Her mind was filled with him alone.
The woman had not realized that her breathing had quickened until he brought his lips to her neck, his teeth brushing against that soft, vulnerable skin. As he caressed her breast, the woman gave a soft sound of delight, her hands gripping the sheets at her side. Then, as he caressed her side, her own hands released the sheets, drawing up his back until she held him lightly at his nape. His tongue against her collarbone made her breathe deeply. And she realized that her body was tense. His touch washed it all away, and with that fire he had kindled she relaxed beneath muscled form. Softly, gently, the black fae licked the wound at his shoulder, her tongue caressing that savage scar. Her maw moved up his neck, her teeth tugging at his ear with a soft, almost playful growl. Her hands wandered to explore his body, always delighted by the feel of him beneath her touch. That touch moved across those cuts and bruises, kissing them with her fingers.
500+
He smiled then, and she knew that everything was fine. He held her close. There was a quiet relief that calmed her soul as he negated such doubt, that he had simply wanted to hear it. With a soft smile she gave him that kiss that was sought, her woad bound fingers gently touching his neck, feeling the fur and the pulse beneath them. And while she felt that he did indeed did not doubt her, there was that lingering feeling of dread. Perhaps one day something would push her too far, pushing her over the brink and into a dark abyss. She was born of rape, and she did not doubt that her mother’s rage had burned through her veins even as the darkness released his seed. She was conceived of those things, of darkness and rage, and it was said that such things were given to the child conceived. She was that child. How was it that corruption had not yet settled within her heart? And if something did push her too far, she feared that she would not be able to return. But then, she had Onus. And so she kissed him, holding onto him with that quiet soul, needing him there with her in a way she had not been able to recognize before. It was as if this would be the last time she could spend with him.
A soft, sighed moan escaped her as he switched their places, holding her carefully with the controlled strength of those arms. As she lay there beneath him, the woman relinquished her hold on him, simply looking up, taking that quiet pleasure in simply watching him. Her eyes met his gaze. I do love you, the woman thought in the silence, more than anything. Whatever physical act of lust she had partaken, the woman had been satisfying a curiosity, exploring both the body and the mind. This would be the first time that she had been taken again by a man, but then she had never loved another before. Intrigue was not the same—it was the lesser cousin of love. And while, for a woman, such an act was not purely physical, no true connection had been made. Here, with him, everything was real. Everything was certain. Beneath him, the woman could allow her thoughts fall away. The woman did not think of herself. Her mind was filled with him alone.
The woman had not realized that her breathing had quickened until he brought his lips to her neck, his teeth brushing against that soft, vulnerable skin. As he caressed her breast, the woman gave a soft sound of delight, her hands gripping the sheets at her side. Then, as he caressed her side, her own hands released the sheets, drawing up his back until she held him lightly at his nape. His tongue against her collarbone made her breathe deeply. And she realized that her body was tense. His touch washed it all away, and with that fire he had kindled she relaxed beneath muscled form. Softly, gently, the black fae licked the wound at his shoulder, her tongue caressing that savage scar. Her maw moved up his neck, her teeth tugging at his ear with a soft, almost playful growl. Her hands wandered to explore his body, always delighted by the feel of him beneath her touch. That touch moved across those cuts and bruises, kissing them with her fingers.