she likes the way her name sounds upon his lips. it sounds almost like a songbird and not syllables that drips from his slender jowls. his masculine baritone, wraps against her name like moon-water and silk; dark, lovely, liquid taste. she is drawn to him the way wolves are drawn to pale, effervescent moonlight. she is drawn to him in dark, pagan ritual. soft. sensual. moonlight. he is the dreamcatcher to her wolf. she wants to soak in his divine blood. bathe, in his moonglow. taste, the fever dream of his lips. pressed, roughly against her own lips. she wants blood, to pour. his. hers. embellished, temple walls cooing ravenously, from an altar of raw, unadulterated worship. their ocean red, how they'd pour. they'd pour. streaming, wet red beneath glittering tombs. she is the empty vessel with which he fills with his blood; she imagines this and, all more.
she imagines drops of redwater, flowing from her curves. scarlet rivulets, swimming, into moist sinkholes bound for the scandinavian oceans of a gaping hell. as the cool, evening zephyr touches, her lips. she tastes its keen, arctic flavour. its frigid kiss of sugar ice like sweet, acid trips. its an icy, brine taste that wets her moist tongue with promise, and anticipation, and animalistic devoir. the oceanic balm, were savoured by the pearl enamel of her hot fangs. the ragged breath of her razorblade lips whispered of hexes, and beautiful disease. their serpentine curve, glistens wetly, against the rabid curl of her insisors. insisors, that ached for the breaking of skin. for the taking of flesh. she wants him in ways wolves crave intimacy and deadly desire and need and touch. touch. t-o-u-c-h.
where his beauty shone, in starry moonlight and flesh, abandon; hers' mimicked the devil's succubus. unholy desires - unholy passions, made manifest. fore her beauty, is carved in the devil's image. all fervent hourglass. all raw, immaculate hunger. chiseled, in the wild allurement of angels. euryale, purrs, a blood-red angel purr. carved, in sinewy slenderness, and predatorial want. she soaks up light and shadows like a rabid promise. a wolf's promise. in the feral eve, waning moonshadow, touches the delicate curve of her smooth, cresent lashes. a soft silver moonshadow, that descends the curve of her face. her hourglass frame. coiling, against her smooth curves in wet rivulets of pale ivory, and vermillion paint.
how fervent their blood-red allure. soaking, up moonshadow with each hiss of radiant light. soaking, up darkness with each whisper of intimacy. the same darkness and moonlight, that wrapped for his body, and clung to his frame. ached, and ached, and ached to taste him. threw rivers of nightspell, against his flesh. spilled, gilded silver against his ribcage, with all the assurance of heaven. he is delicious; with heaven, breathing against his lips. with heaven, lingering against the stardust of his skin, like the pale scales of a summer snake. crawling, in a garden of wildflowers. sleek, and serpentine in its beauty.
euryale calantha eats him alive with her ruby eyes. her hunger, were a sensual mistress. her hunger, pours into the wrathful fires of her soul. a salivating, howling hunger. that ached of violence, of blood, of intimacy and eternal want; everything, he isn't, and the siren in her knows this. apart of her wishes that he were more like her. then they would howl together in violent desires and fervent moonsongs. when her feverish blues, ghosts her flesh in lucid, weeping kisses, they kiss him, too. her alluring blues - soft, deadly blues. primal coils of jade-blue, violently, twisting amidst the silken crimson of her flesh; coiling, like glass snakes against the deep, glowing curves of her spine.
against her body, they sigh and wither and moan, along the bounty of her hips. the slender back of her thighs, accentuated. in sharp threads of porcelain and ghastly, voluptuous white. all coagulating in floodlights of blue. euryale, oozes of aerial sensuality; sensuality, written in alluring flesh and sinful scripture. her ghost curves - maneuvering with carnal ease - floats, like hissing pythons on the bayou. long, hungry floating blues, drifting along the sinewy inbetween. slithering in rivers of azure; till they all but mirrored and shadowed the man's steps. draping, his muscularity in oceans of neon mist, that clung like old ghosts to the sinew of his frame and reveled to touch him.
euryale, breathes blue against his sleek form. euryale is of the devil. she is carved by the devil's lust and comes, breathing, in the form of a she-wolf. lucifer, moves in her. how Morningstar kisses might descend her soul and flesh. o, and how she hungers for, nearness. raw. glamourous. violent. touch. so when she feels the lasting shadows of his gaze, chasing the shadows of violent beauty. when she feels the lingering heat of his dark, swarthy eyes peel over her, like breathless deaths. seeking the warm corners of her red, red lips; she cannot help but curl her lips upward in laughing realization, bubbled mirth gilding her sirenic voice with harpy guile. what captivates you so? her smiles. her fangs. her teeth. were he gazing at this? o, all the better to eat you with.
her voice, ebbs with the seawater. her voice yearns to find the elegant spaces between his ribcage; to count the bones of his body with each intimate whisper. recollect the details of his flesh with each phantom kiss of haunting need. and when she closes the distance between them. her soft curves were nothing more than a velvet sigh - a delicious caress - against the wiry muscles of his lean body. as if to say; feel how sated i am - that you need not fear a well-fed predator. she savours him, with her eyes, instead. imagining the red taste of him, against her tongue. she savours the smooth abandon of his voice. the soft notes of their deep male tenor, lulling her into temporal calm. the heavenly gentleness with which he exudes; the angelic, the starry, the divine - they all lived in the beauty of his flesh. in the universe of his voice. he is benign, courteous; a gentlemanly touch of perfected calm. she realizes then like a wolf in love with a lamb, that he is no prey at all; that his beauty is too delicate, too precious to consume.
fore he is soft like summer rain; like grey-blue mist, on the spring mountains' breeze, tousled by swan-wings and eagle feathers. He is noble like a forest hawk. the lilt of his husky voice, traverses with a soft temperance. touching, her ears in a smooth caress of gentility. she feels the delicate smothering of his serenity, wrap like a hand petting around her throat. the softness of him, fills her jaws like a lucid dream. in this tender moment, euryale calantha whispers against him. ruby gaze, flashing fiercely. her lips were close to his ear. purring. breathing, carnal breaths. she wonders if he will run, now. with her, this close. with her breathing, warmly, against his neck. he is the dreamcatcher, to her wolf. the moon, to her sea. if he should leave her in the darkness - with no light, nor song, to follow; but the wildness, of her own heartbeat.
She asks with her eyes. her body a gentle brush in the foreboding shadows; a gentle brush, against his. Beneath moonlight, where wolves share scared songs and commit to primal dance, is where she'd hope to find him; between the darkness of the oceans, and the riveting beauty of the hallowed moon.
