COLT
His request carves a grin against her lips, a seal of promise. When he shifts, hoisting her up, it sends her tumbling closer toward the edge, and her body folds into his in surrender. Her hand presses tight to the heat of his inked skin, her head shifting along the crook of his collarbone where the storm clings like cologne. The power in his groans, the hot exhale against her sensitive skin, the curl of his hands along her body—he's her only gravity now.
Each thrust drags a moaned variant of his name, “Sunjata—gods—Sunjata...Sun... Jata—S...ata....” A breathy chant, part groan and part praise, torn between the ache of pleasure and the pressure building to break. She reaches again for the soft base of his wing, trying to bring him with her, coaxing him into the same descent with a purposeful graze of feathers—but she can’t hold on to the tease for long. She barely knows her own name, only his, and the way he fills her.
She is pulled under completely into the flood of him. A moan stretches from her throat as the tension finally breaks, pleasure overtaking her like a flash flood breaching its banks. Her back arches into him, body trembling with the force of it. Her fingers dig into his shoulders and his wing, trying to hold herself steady as the torrent of her release drowns out everything else. His name tears out of her like a gasp from someone surfacing after being underwater too long. Her hips roll instinctively, a slow grind into the fullness of him, wringing out every drop of sensation she can before she collapses into him—breathless and soaked in every sense of the word.
Each thrust drags a moaned variant of his name, “Sunjata—gods—Sunjata...Sun... Jata—S...ata....” A breathy chant, part groan and part praise, torn between the ache of pleasure and the pressure building to break. She reaches again for the soft base of his wing, trying to bring him with her, coaxing him into the same descent with a purposeful graze of feathers—but she can’t hold on to the tease for long. She barely knows her own name, only his, and the way he fills her.
She is pulled under completely into the flood of him. A moan stretches from her throat as the tension finally breaks, pleasure overtaking her like a flash flood breaching its banks. Her back arches into him, body trembling with the force of it. Her fingers dig into his shoulders and his wing, trying to hold herself steady as the torrent of her release drowns out everything else. His name tears out of her like a gasp from someone surfacing after being underwater too long. Her hips roll instinctively, a slow grind into the fullness of him, wringing out every drop of sensation she can before she collapses into him—breathless and soaked in every sense of the word.
I ain't sayin' that I always sleep alone
Done a little bit of midnight movin' on
I never let my heart go all the way
I never fall in love, baby, just in case
Done a little bit of midnight movin' on
I never let my heart go all the way
I never fall in love, baby, just in case
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
