like having your throat cut,
just that fast
just that fast
And just
like
that
Amaunet becomes holy.
It takes no more than a blink of her eyes and a whisper scratch of his teeth against the tender hair of her throat for it to settle over her like a mantle. Beneath her skin it blooms in gold blush like blood rising to the surface of a young girl's cheeks. Her wings flare with the gravitational pull of a god and each of her feathers becomes a star caught in the cosmos of her. Sinew trembles and shivers like moonlight through a cloudy night as she presses hot and hungry against him.
She devours every inch of space he surrenders and it is still not enough to settle the holy shroud that has fallen across her.
It is not nearly enough.
Like snow she sinks knee deep into him. Her teeth bare themselves from between her smile and they clash against the space between a kiss of her lips and the steady drumbeat racing along the belly of his cheek. “Let us discover it together then.” She coos and only then, with her voice just-so against his cheek (like an almost kiss, or an almost threat), does she move to lay her lips against his crest.
Her wing snaps against his side in a lash that has nothing at all to do with violence and everything to do with that hunger still tracing arcane patterns behind her eyes each time she blinks against the shine of his reflection in them. He lives in that dark space like lighting, and starlight, and a solar flare. She pushes against him like thunder, like rain, like the sand reaching up to pool around their ankles here in the dark bottom of Solterra.
He tastes like fig, and silk, and gold and a hundred another flavors that she has no name for but mine.
Amaunet thinks she could live in the taste of him and never feel hollow again.
She languishes against him like a wildcat. She purrs. “And when you are bloated with power and fat with the taste of me,” her pause is almost breathless with all the things roiling in her in tangles of divine. “I will let you fall to your knees and pray.” She presses a kiss of flight-feathers against his hipbone as if she might soothe the ache of all her hunger nipping at every noble edge of his form.
Or as if she might show him how sweet mercy could be for him.
And there is no mistaking the glaring, golden shine of all the terrible things she knows in her eyes as she cuts her gaze directly into his.
@Corradh
like
that
Amaunet becomes holy.
It takes no more than a blink of her eyes and a whisper scratch of his teeth against the tender hair of her throat for it to settle over her like a mantle. Beneath her skin it blooms in gold blush like blood rising to the surface of a young girl's cheeks. Her wings flare with the gravitational pull of a god and each of her feathers becomes a star caught in the cosmos of her. Sinew trembles and shivers like moonlight through a cloudy night as she presses hot and hungry against him.
She devours every inch of space he surrenders and it is still not enough to settle the holy shroud that has fallen across her.
It is not nearly enough.
Like snow she sinks knee deep into him. Her teeth bare themselves from between her smile and they clash against the space between a kiss of her lips and the steady drumbeat racing along the belly of his cheek. “Let us discover it together then.” She coos and only then, with her voice just-so against his cheek (like an almost kiss, or an almost threat), does she move to lay her lips against his crest.
Her wing snaps against his side in a lash that has nothing at all to do with violence and everything to do with that hunger still tracing arcane patterns behind her eyes each time she blinks against the shine of his reflection in them. He lives in that dark space like lighting, and starlight, and a solar flare. She pushes against him like thunder, like rain, like the sand reaching up to pool around their ankles here in the dark bottom of Solterra.
He tastes like fig, and silk, and gold and a hundred another flavors that she has no name for but mine.
Amaunet thinks she could live in the taste of him and never feel hollow again.
She languishes against him like a wildcat. She purrs. “And when you are bloated with power and fat with the taste of me,” her pause is almost breathless with all the things roiling in her in tangles of divine. “I will let you fall to your knees and pray.” She presses a kiss of flight-feathers against his hipbone as if she might soothe the ache of all her hunger nipping at every noble edge of his form.
Or as if she might show him how sweet mercy could be for him.
And there is no mistaking the glaring, golden shine of all the terrible things she knows in her eyes as she cuts her gaze directly into his.
@Corradh
