i want the rain that makes you wet
a fever takes her. wild, wicked desires. moonlight braids her tresses, silver. claps of thunder boom violently, up above. god is angry, but the goddess laughs. the red huntress, glows, like sigils of bad omen, against fervent lightening strikes. discord plays, yet the forest sings foreign songs with a maddening hunger - passion - for her. silver serenades the she-wolf's form; her curves were bedazzled diamonds, caught by too many flicker-lights. the illuminating chaos dances all around her. laughing with all the hunger of wolves, of dragons. before her winter soldier, she wears rainwater like a wedding dress. hot, hot summer rain. wet, silky ribbons ever flowing. drowning the image of euryale calantha, in a brazen flush of dove-grey mist. her blood-heat rises beneath skin like a tidal wave does. their warm tenderness, folds against flesh, like petals blushing beneath her rose-cheek. he feels so cold, and she feels too hot. she is fire. he is ice. both wants to violently consume the other.
"a queen," they are so close - too close, too close to stay in control. she imagines pressing her face into the hard flesh of his toned chest. burying her lips into his too long-hair, listening for his heartbeat. listening for the howling madman in his veins. "then you must be king," he is an icy wraith come to haunt her. he is december's venom. his heart, buried in kilometres of snow, while hers were punctured by his silver bullet. she listens to his silky words, then. the chill of his tongue dipped by the aftertaste of iron, of blood. she listens for the ancient wisedom in them. the exotic way he pronounces each syllable. rugged. devilish, utterly husky; a male of faraway northern kingdoms, with winter-smoke for breath. she hears the promise in his voice - also, the faint ache of something more. what could be more sacred than making love underneath the stars, beneath the moonlight? what could be more beautiful than sleeping wild in the forest floor, bare before twilight, sunlight and starlight? what could be more beautiful than two lovers awake at dawn? two lovers, caught in the throes of passion, by nightfall?
o, the earth on her skin feels amazing. the leaves in her curls, feel like belonging. the spiders on her flesh belong there, too, as did the moist droplets of rain and the hint of stars. euryale so loved the earth, the forests, the eternal paradise of sky, wind and snow. she loves the cold, cold taiga woods. was there a kingdom beyond the pine trees then? beyond the snow? beyond these forest fortresses? what will you show me? she wants to ask, and so she asks him. female alpha, to her alpha male; she steals yet another kiss from his lips and her whisper feels so hot, so hungry, so bold. "then show me your world," she flicks her vermillion gaze upward, her lips nearing his once again. cerulean mists becoming lithe fingertips, as they intimately trace the lines of his facial contours, in the sudden flashes of lightening and darkness.
they share the sensuous kiss. euryale gives him another kiss, and another. slow, earthy, sensual, infinitely tender kisses. it feels like a hit, a prayer, a covetous drug; slipping, like slipping out of a dress in her mind. suddenly, her blues disappear in a hiss of vapour. the misty dress falls to the earth with all the rippling sighs of barely-there lingerie. suddenly, she is no longer laced in ribbons of blue, but the hottest, most wicked fiery scarlet. all of him fills her flesh and soul. she feels his ice, deep in her bones. in her lungs. even as he presses his unicorn horn to the flesh of her nape, she feels no fear. only hunger. only the wildest of passion and desire, effortlessly masked beneath the hot-venomous seas of her salivating indifference.
she moves away from him then, as slow and steady as a panther. her throaty rumble, the deep purr of a lioness in the beginning throes of a feast. she moves away, as a booming strike of lightening flashes against her unholy figure. thunder thick with wrath, descends from up above them. allowing the darkness to slip tightly around her, like the arms of a possessive lover. another jolt of lightening strikes, and she turns her back to him. towards the ocean, she slinks. her gait a smooth, even swagger of swayed hips and too-slender legs. her hooves track like blades against the wet mud; her tousled hair a forlorn mess of unruly, lavender ruin. her tail lashes out to slip beneath his chin, teasing, playful even. they run their fluffy length against his brooding jawline, like come-hither fingertips on a devastatingly graceful woman. "show you me your world. i want to see what you've seen. i want to taste what you've tasted," and the holy way she - demands - no, whispers each word above her shoulder; each sentence falls like hymns, like prayers, like drugs. each whisper runs along her spine, dancing towards him, full of wolven allure and soft, female enticement. "please?"
@Amaroq
i want everywhere that you've been
