i want the rain that makes you wet
her heart flutters like unfiltered moonlight. her skin, warms. thunder breaks free of the onyx canopies that shivers hungrily, up above. violent flashes of light ripples across her crimson curves. they dance, dance down the witch's spine until the ivory curvaceous body of hers', shimmers with wicked illumination. shimmers with blood-red desire. suddenly, the rain feels hot and heavy and drips like holy sacrifice upon her breast. suddenly, bits of lupine hunger forms within the lilac-haired banshee. like shafts of glacial ice smashed together, so violently, euryale's love is a savage, ravening thing too sharp to be ever called love.
her love wants to consume amaroq like winter consumes heat. a hunger for him burns in her svelte chest. it penetrates her heart, like an arrow dipped in the sweetest, hottest, wildest of venoms. he is her venom. he is her winter soldier, she decides. he is a storm-squall, to which she'd gladly beg release. gladly beg forgiveness. she wants to paint her lust against his skin and pull him apart piece by piece, if only to remake him into the image of a god. like frothing waves crashed upon arctic rocks; she wants her heart crucified to the hard-muscular edges of him. she wants him, she decides, like wild wolves ache for their eternal moonlight.
there are few things in this world that makes euryale feel this way. apart from the endless hunger she feels, everything else feels less than eternal. when he draws his tail against her diaphonous baby blues - the fire, the hunger she feels - erupts in her jaws like screaming streams of light. his touch is so, so cold it almost feels like death; and she loves it like that. euryale wants to press her curves against him. she wants to taste the poison from his lips and drink all of him down, down, down.
she drinks these dark thoughts, and all thoughts lead to a single narrow path. she thinks he could satisfy her. she thinks she could find aching solace in him. her heart feels hungrier than ever. hungry for his touch. hungry for the million ways she could describe him to be this beautiful. if he is the leopard seal, euryale wants to be the orca that sings for him beneath the raw waves of a cold, savage ocean. she feels the rain caress her body like silk, and a wild purr leaves her plush lips. "maybe it is you i hunt," she laughs, her sugar-voice twisting into icy wicked mirth. she steps closer, closer still. she looks up at him beneath long, ebony lashes. she leans into him, pressing a whisper of a kiss upon his lips. she wants to taste his winter. she wants to tangle her hot breath against the arctic sateen folds of his too-long hair. she wants to taste what he's tasted, and she hopes his lips still tastes of blood. "i have always loved the cold..."
i want everywhere that you've been
