06-04-2009, 05:00 PM
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Oh yeah! I saw that movie a while back, but I think I remember, ^=^ She was a woad persona in there too, huh? Only she wasn’t supposed to be in the stories, O^O
And maybe we could have a short part after for while they sleep—maybe she has a Dream? ^=^
500+
She looked into those dark pools, finding everything that she needed within him. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and she returned it immediately, feeling now that she could resist it no longer. A soft sound moved through her throat as she tasted him, fondled by his tongue. And her own within him caressed lovingly, that burning fire within her eternal, never to die out. She could feel the heat of his body against her, and the heat of his manhood so close to her was like a hot coal that desired to be quenched by her body. She shifted beneath him, her hips brushing against his, that curiosity moving her to press up against him, her desire wanting perpetually to eliminate that distance that she did not want. With him, she was safe, and she knew, as he had said, that he would not let anything happen to her. As his arm moved beneath her, holding her to him, the woman bared herself to him, body and soul, her eyes closed with that strange sadness.
A soft whine escaped from her gasping breaths as she felt him outline her femininity with maddening slowness. He was so close and yet not close enough. Her fingers moved along his shoulder and against his hip, her legs giving beneath him as his own thighs parted them. As he broke that kiss, gasping for air, her maw brushed against his neck, nibbling his throat and feeling the vibrations of his voice. And then, as he spoke, he thrust into her, causing to cry out as her body moved against his, one hand grasping the back of his neck while the other held the side of his ribs. Her mind was shot with that thin, red line of pain that was lost within the golden ribbons of that ecstasy. Somehow, as her body enveloped his hard shaft, she felt that this was different than before. He made her his—she could feel it, like an electric pulse jumping through her, making her skin tingle and her mind shiver with pleasure. As her body was held to his in that single moment, her heart beat against his, jumping in her chest with her lust for him. Her hands held him firmly, as if to steady herself in that wavering world about him. He was her only anchor. Her back lowered to the bed as her feet brushed against his knees.
"Onus," she breathed with a soft whine, able to find only his name in the drug of his being. Her eyes were open, watching the empty ceiling, but she did not see the room. She could see only him, and she was lost within him. As she held his neck and ribs with that tight grasp, her maw nibbled the corner of his jaw, tracing the line of his jaw with her tongue. It was as if she were memorizing him, learning his body in a way she had never needed to before. Her hands slid down the sinew of his body, feeling the power and control that moved against her in that ancient and sacred rhythm. Her fingers grasped the sheets once more, less merciful to the fabric than she had been.
Oh yeah! I saw that movie a while back, but I think I remember, ^=^ She was a woad persona in there too, huh? Only she wasn’t supposed to be in the stories, O^O
And maybe we could have a short part after for while they sleep—maybe she has a Dream? ^=^
500+
She looked into those dark pools, finding everything that she needed within him. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and she returned it immediately, feeling now that she could resist it no longer. A soft sound moved through her throat as she tasted him, fondled by his tongue. And her own within him caressed lovingly, that burning fire within her eternal, never to die out. She could feel the heat of his body against her, and the heat of his manhood so close to her was like a hot coal that desired to be quenched by her body. She shifted beneath him, her hips brushing against his, that curiosity moving her to press up against him, her desire wanting perpetually to eliminate that distance that she did not want. With him, she was safe, and she knew, as he had said, that he would not let anything happen to her. As his arm moved beneath her, holding her to him, the woman bared herself to him, body and soul, her eyes closed with that strange sadness.
A soft whine escaped from her gasping breaths as she felt him outline her femininity with maddening slowness. He was so close and yet not close enough. Her fingers moved along his shoulder and against his hip, her legs giving beneath him as his own thighs parted them. As he broke that kiss, gasping for air, her maw brushed against his neck, nibbling his throat and feeling the vibrations of his voice. And then, as he spoke, he thrust into her, causing to cry out as her body moved against his, one hand grasping the back of his neck while the other held the side of his ribs. Her mind was shot with that thin, red line of pain that was lost within the golden ribbons of that ecstasy. Somehow, as her body enveloped his hard shaft, she felt that this was different than before. He made her his—she could feel it, like an electric pulse jumping through her, making her skin tingle and her mind shiver with pleasure. As her body was held to his in that single moment, her heart beat against his, jumping in her chest with her lust for him. Her hands held him firmly, as if to steady herself in that wavering world about him. He was her only anchor. Her back lowered to the bed as her feet brushed against his knees.
"Onus," she breathed with a soft whine, able to find only his name in the drug of his being. Her eyes were open, watching the empty ceiling, but she did not see the room. She could see only him, and she was lost within him. As she held his neck and ribs with that tight grasp, her maw nibbled the corner of his jaw, tracing the line of his jaw with her tongue. It was as if she were memorizing him, learning his body in a way she had never needed to before. Her hands slid down the sinew of his body, feeling the power and control that moved against her in that ancient and sacred rhythm. Her fingers grasped the sheets once more, less merciful to the fabric than she had been.