Moira Tonnerre
where you go, i shall follow
where you go, i shall follow
"If you're feral," she murmurs, still breathless from when his lips brushed her cheek, eyes mildly dilated, heart elevated and slightly overwhelmed, "then that's positively charming. I'd like to know more about wild things," and she whispers it like a lover would, leaning in to brush her lips along his ear, a wicked grin in her tone. Only after the silence stretches too long, a thin barrier crumbling, a terrified thing beating in her chest, does she withdraw with a smirk.
Moira Tonnerre is many things, but a smirk is not something commonly worn. Pleasure shines in those honeyed eyes, a challenge, a burning - it is something she will not touch, but oh how she wants to reach forth and grab it with both hands !
Asterion breaks the spell, his lips pressed along the long column of her throat, cleansing the patches he carefully placed, whispers tickling her skin and setting her nerves on fire. Shock stutters down her spine like a skittering rat that flees from being found. So fast, so quickly, the atmosphere grows as thick as the cream atop her morning coffee, a heavy thing that makes you push forward and pause to think all at once. He's so forward. Was she not just as bold? Has she invited him into such a taboo exchange without ever realizing it? Despite the bells screaming in her head, the alarms flashing bright red like the blood that once washed over her hands, her chin tilts up and a small noise slips out.
"And what do savages do, Asterion?" husky - her voice is too husky. This is a territory for Estelle to waltz amongst, not one for her to traipse over and sully with her lack of expertise. Should she even respond in kind? What would happen if she just let go?
Gone are the days of cold, silent rooms with portraits that stare and condemn her damaged soul. All that is left of the past are the memories she carries and the promise that one day she will return to Estelle and Marquelle and the Twins. They deserve at least that much from her, but who's left to stop the wanton cravings, the carnal desires, from which she refrains and suppresses for the sheer decency of the Tonnerre name?
Chained by no man any longer, her pyre blazes higher and higher into the night. She is not meant to be ash upon the ground, a song forgotten, a memory faded. Moira Tonnerre is a phoenix, lighting herself on fire just to watch the way she can burn.
Her own brows now match his as she steps forward, testing the distance between them, until is so close she could count his eyelashes. Reaching up, carefully a small kiss is placed upon his cheek, a steely glint in her eye, determination in her veins, and slowly she traces the freckles on his face with her lips until she finds the frosting. Only then does she dare taste the forbidden fruit, cream cheese icing smeared over a dark mouth, and sinning on her mind. Withdrawing as he did, she smiles so sweetly, licking almost all traces of her crimes away.
@asterion . well this did not go as planned c':
e-cho, unsplash
