Oh how good it feels to be admired, to be carved up by those pretty blue eyes like a feast. Anandi stands tall and proud, sea water still glistening on her skin. The girl takes a step closer, a bold move, and then another-- and bravery begins to border on foolishness. Anandi licks her lips, tastes the air: it is full of the fruitlike (fig?) scent of warm bodies and the humid, salty space between them. Delicious.
"I don't know," the girl says, and Anandi nods in understanding. Her attention is caught less by her words and more by the way she says them, the low rumble of her voice. It is a tone that makes her blood quiver.
"... You are... like nothing I've seen, Anandi." A flush of pleasure rises from the pit of her stomach to the tip of her muzzle. She cocks her head, cradling the moonlight with her cheekbones, keenly aware of how the night clings to her like a wedding veil. Her body is tense– it is a great struggle to not reach out and run her tongue down the other girl’s neck. “You’re a sweet girl,” she sighs wistfully, sidestepping coyly. So a strange dance begins, with the moon on their shoulders and the sea at their feet.
"Hello, Apolonia." The name like a green apple on her tongue, how its firm skin yields to crisp, creamy white. She wants more of it.
And she’s so very used to getting what she wants.
"Where I come from, that’s a name fit for a queen," she smiles sweetly; her silken lips, the delicate curl of her ear, all parts of her the picture of innocence– all except those eyes, sensual and knowing, smoke and jade. Would you like to be a queen? A goddess? A prayer?? Let me help you. “Queen Apolonia,” she murmurs, tasting that name once more, the way hers had been tasted twice. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”
Even though she had eaten not so long ago, the nearness of the pied girl nearly overcomes the creature of the sea. She is so keenly aware of the heat of Apolonia’s body, stretching across the briny air between them, and the details of the younger girl’s face which come now into sharp focus. And of course the scent of her, honey and salt. She shivers, unsure whether her thoughts are her own or her hunger. Unsure if, at the end of the day, there is really a difference.
All her life she’s been so disciplined, so patient. A creature of opportunity, not prey. But this world is so big and delightful and full of quickly beating hearts… it can’t be that bad, can it? To bow to her nature? To paint the town (bloody) red? She takes another step, circling Apolonia, admiring her (and, naturally, being admired) in a different light.
“I must say, you look absolutely scrumptious.” Her lips curl into an impish smile. You’re missing something, aren’t you? I can make you whole. The hunger comes again, buzzing up and down her spine. I can turn you inside out, wouldn’t you like that? I think you would, sweet girl that you are…
rise as a crescent moon. bite her lip
as you would a date. break your fast
on her brown honey
@
some say the loving and the devouring are all the same thing
☾
