when the world turns upside down, you should blame it on me
Oh, she absolutely could let it get to her head, the way she can get him to falter and crumble by simply not letting him take part in all the games he prefers to play. And when she taunts him back, with the same sort of games, the same prolonging, it stirs that primal need within him that has his hands pressing back against the restraint again.
And her whine, when she tells him that she wants him too, has him trying to press his chest against hers again. “Then take me.” Comes out husky and perhaps a bit demanding — ever wanting to be the one in charge. It’s a nice change of pace, the way she can get him to writhe beneath her terribly small frame, craving to touch her skin where it stretches over bone, the hollows created with her movements.
But then she finally lowers herself to him, and his breath hitches with a growl, trying to push his hips up to her. She doesn’t let him, however, not as she drags herself along him and he can feel her warmth, her excitement for this. And he feels it too, that string growing taut again between point A to point B, wanting to release it, to bury his length deep as he can in her. His panting breaths cause his chest to press against hers with every ragged inhale as she goes to grind against him again, and he moans and growls his need for her when she bites his neck.
His back arches slightly with it, pressing back against her as his head tilts back again and his eyes close, tips of the horns dragging against the wood and leaving faint scars in their wake. But she prolongs it, and he wonders how much more crumbling she needs before he begs to feel her around him, to watch her from this position as he ignites all the love and fire that burns within her.
And her whine, when she tells him that she wants him too, has him trying to press his chest against hers again. “Then take me.” Comes out husky and perhaps a bit demanding — ever wanting to be the one in charge. It’s a nice change of pace, the way she can get him to writhe beneath her terribly small frame, craving to touch her skin where it stretches over bone, the hollows created with her movements.
But then she finally lowers herself to him, and his breath hitches with a growl, trying to push his hips up to her. She doesn’t let him, however, not as she drags herself along him and he can feel her warmth, her excitement for this. And he feels it too, that string growing taut again between point A to point B, wanting to release it, to bury his length deep as he can in her. His panting breaths cause his chest to press against hers with every ragged inhale as she goes to grind against him again, and he moans and growls his need for her when she bites his neck.
His back arches slightly with it, pressing back against her as his head tilts back again and his eyes close, tips of the horns dragging against the wood and leaving faint scars in their wake. But she prolongs it, and he wonders how much more crumbling she needs before he begs to feel her around him, to watch her from this position as he ignites all the love and fire that burns within her.
sunjata
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
