Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Sampling his mouth like a fine wine, Maea ran her tongue along his bottom lip before nipping it playfully with sharp fangs. "You're greedy," she grinned, wickedly pleased with his frankness, "that's very good. And luckily for you, this genie has no limit to her wishing counter." Getting tired of my own words
Savoring one more kiss, deep and lingering, when she pulled back it was only to set out on a journey down his neck, a soft tongue lapping skin as often as she placed little bites on her path. Never hard enough to break skin, just startling enough to coax a reaction from him, she grew bolder every time, until she reached the hollow beneath his sternum. Then she sank to her knees upon the bathroom floor, kneeling before him amid scattered rose petals and discarded clothes, fingers busy with undoing the fastenings of his pants. Struggling briefly with a button, anticipation rose as cloth fell away, freeing the erection from its constraints. His scent overwhelmed her, heady rich with musk and want; casting her gaze upwards, it was with deliberate, teasing slowness that she raised a single finger to slide along the lelngth of him, so silky soft beneath her hand. The way she wanted to torment him with feathery touches and see how close to the edge she could bring him bordered on cruelty, on obsession; all because how she adored how intense he sometimes got.
The first kiss was a gentle whisper, like a pre-emptive apology, or maybe a last warning – then her lips parted as she leaned forward, taking as much of his cock as she could fit into the moist heat of her mouth.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
