This hurricane's chasing us all underground
though we are but strangers, i feel like i've known you since, forever. she thirsts for him, the way an ocean thirsts for its moon. she wants him to wrap her body in the coldest moonlight. she wants to be consumed by his hard, icy touch. to feel his silver fingertips, caress the black, raging seas of her heart and drown her in his love. to feel the strength of his body against her own, as together they dance in their mating ritual. beneath moonlight. beneath sea-storm. beneath lightning, and savage thunder. tossing and turning, as lovers do. as waves, that lap the fervent shore with rumbling carnality and hungering, violence. their lips meet like stars meet horizons. a cosmic bliss, fills her soul. he is the legend she hunts for. he is her north star. her hunter. her orion. she will be his artemis. the one woman he can count on, to follow him to the ends of the earth - and kill him, if necessary. i'll put an arrow through you, darling.
the desire she feels for him is more than tangible - it is legendary. it is boundless. he is her dream within a dream. purely instinctive, predatory-driven. he is her moon-shadow. she is his wolf. she wants to sing for him. sing lovenotes and love-howls, so that the whole world may break their hearts, listening to such a timeless, fairytale love. the love between moon and sea. their intimacy, is not the coy flirtatiousness among young, romantic lovers. not the give-me-now-sweetheart, nor the give-and-take, among husbands and wives, girlfriends and boyfriends. o, this feels older than those things. it is the take. the take. the taking. it's ancient lust, ancient love, she feels like succumbing to. it is dark and primordial want, that breathes like wicked wildfire through the prayer of her lupine veins.
it's religion. it's religion. the way she deliciously offers herself to him. curves, impossibly tender. body, smooth and feminine; feeling perfect against his divine masculine. o, she would bow for him. she would pray. come, submit like lovers submit to the bedroom floor, dripping in candlelit incense. but come sunset, come moon-hour. it will be him that's pressed with his back to the rough earth - and she up above, gasping his name. his lover. his woman. his moon. she is living caricature of both carnal desire, and salivating threat. but the only threat here is that she may take too much, and he may (he will) take even, more. she drinks him down. she drinks him down. and he goes down as easy as, breathing. she wants to go down with him; and she wants to be up above, as they sink. sink, to the bottom of the ocean floor.
she hears the rumble of his heart, purring like a tiger beneath his chest. she can taste the hint of impatience, and she only laughs, as cruel as any woman could possibly be. she pulls herself closer into his embrace. against the icy chill of him, she tangles herself like gunpowder tangles with fire and smoke. they lean against one another, they share such intimate kisses. and even as she leaves his side to follow the aching sound of the sea, even then, she is relentlessly, quietly, teasing him. "i do not know pleasure without pain," she whispers, her voice a playful hiss full of sensuous enticement. they walk, together. she in front. he, behind. but he teases her, too. with the dark promise of his eyes. the promise of his sharp teeth, and sharp lips, that ached to trace her flesh in the lightening-dark. with the caress of his unicorn horn, that taps at her svelte hip; like male fingertips, tapping the curvaceousness, there.
the ocean calls her by her name; another reminder, another promise. she feels its salt-gilded breath, run its icy tang along her lips, her cheek, her brow. she feels its untamed wrath, howling with something like jealousy. it howls. it bleeds wildfire in her veins. and euryale laughs, a hungry huntress, in the dead of night. when the mangroves part their foliage like rough-cut bedroom curtains, euryale only dances forward in a serpent hiss of laughing desire. the sands kick up beneath her dancing feet. she draws gracefully along the water's edge; the ocean spray mingling, with the jasmine-iron perfume of her fur. "is this deep enough?" she whispers, her hooves sinking into the murky ocean-froth. her gaze never straying from his, as she rears, then slowly walks backwards into the black-water. she taunts him further, a single finely sculpted brow elegantly raised, "deeper still?" every part of her body screams challenge. every part of her is daring him to come, come close. come fall into the ocean, with me.
"how deep into the oceans must we go, for your spell to take?" she laughs once more, wild and untamed like the sea. the ocean licks for her thighs now, then her belly, as the further she goes, the deeper the oceans groan. euryale is a slow, seductive dance; all come-hither glances, all come-hither smiles. but instead of the proverbial dancing against his lap; o, the ocean is her table. the sands, her bed. the ocean writhes, black-white bedsheets tossing in the night. another crack of lightening erupts, flashing violently. wickedly. the ocean bellows, twisting. churning. threatening to take, take, take, take, take. a stray lilac curl falls devilishly over her gaze, and the witch licks the rainwater from her lips. purring and taunting, whispering and singing; "don't be shy," but this time her voice is scarcely heard above the thunder. above the rainfall. i can wait all night. but, can you?
@amaroq
and a riot about to explode into flames
