I'll let the flames take me high, burn down the whole damn sky
Her skin ripples beneath his touch as it glides higher up her sides, little better than a pond begging to be disturbed in the summer time heat. The drag of his worn hands is like her own, the scrape enough to make his touch land and linger, the memory of it held within the nerves even as his fingers slip away. His accent has the same effect on her, certain vowels or words scraping against her mind with a shiver that bends her expression to something more sly. She'd had a good time with him before, and she's no doubt he'll fulfill just what she needs tonight.
It's a calculated risk, summoning Frey right now. It's one she does her best to dodge the moment that power coats the air with something thick and reckless, as heady as a summer fling in the wildflower meadows. Frey's presence is immediate and filling, and Colt's breath draws in sharp and cautious as blue eyes strike her. She slams her lashes down, unwilling to see further than that. She tries to find a steady seat upon Sunjata, to ride out this storm she's summoned. The god's touch trails across her, feeling less like a whisper on her skin than the consuming need for more contact, the slam of fingers sliding between each other and rooting into warm earth as body weight eases into motion and moans.
The trade of history between him and his god is no surprise, but is a quick reminder to her just what she done. Especially as Sunjata bucks beneath her, the strike of him rich between her thighs, the contact trailing high into the base of her gut with a fresh flare of heat, further fed by Frey's effects. Unprepared with her eyes shut, she tips further into his chest, surprise shortening her breath audibly. It does not become easier from here to breathe.
His grip digs in perfectly, each fingertip punctuating her curvature with pressure that plucks right against the chords of her desire. There's no keeping back the audible groan of appreciation for it now, even with Frey's company still lingering a moment longer. Colt's eyes part to check on the application of this magical blindfold, just catching the retreating figure of the god and the skin they wear. Colt's focus watches after the vanishing form even after it's left, as clear cut as any after image of a ghost that's just departed through a wall.
The voice that cuts the sweat-born heat still hanging around them turns her gaze back to the man that's present. An unashamed grin responds as she leans further back again, knees pressing in deeper around either side of him as she shifts. "It's not your mouth I'm worried about," she drawls with a lazy heat, a hand reaching out to cup his chin briefly before her thumb slides over his bottom lip, seeming to inspect the very claim she's made. "What can you see?" she wonders, curious not if it works, though she does lift a hand to wave back and forth across his eyes to see if he flinches a touch. If anything, she's wondering who she might become for him. Normally, she'd prefer to be the one who's seen, the one earning the release and every step in-between, but tonight? Tonight she doesn't mind stepping a bit further away from herself, as if all of her can be taken off as easily as the hat and wig she grabs and tosses aside now with a muffled thump on the floor.
It frees up the climb of her shirt, the fabric guided easily by his hands, her arms leaving their curls around him to clasp each other above her head and make the process fluid. Her back arches, breasts reaching for even more of her touch as her head tips back. "Quite," she manages out as a breathy moan, entirely pleased with her strategy.
It's a calculated risk, summoning Frey right now. It's one she does her best to dodge the moment that power coats the air with something thick and reckless, as heady as a summer fling in the wildflower meadows. Frey's presence is immediate and filling, and Colt's breath draws in sharp and cautious as blue eyes strike her. She slams her lashes down, unwilling to see further than that. She tries to find a steady seat upon Sunjata, to ride out this storm she's summoned. The god's touch trails across her, feeling less like a whisper on her skin than the consuming need for more contact, the slam of fingers sliding between each other and rooting into warm earth as body weight eases into motion and moans.
The trade of history between him and his god is no surprise, but is a quick reminder to her just what she done. Especially as Sunjata bucks beneath her, the strike of him rich between her thighs, the contact trailing high into the base of her gut with a fresh flare of heat, further fed by Frey's effects. Unprepared with her eyes shut, she tips further into his chest, surprise shortening her breath audibly. It does not become easier from here to breathe.
His grip digs in perfectly, each fingertip punctuating her curvature with pressure that plucks right against the chords of her desire. There's no keeping back the audible groan of appreciation for it now, even with Frey's company still lingering a moment longer. Colt's eyes part to check on the application of this magical blindfold, just catching the retreating figure of the god and the skin they wear. Colt's focus watches after the vanishing form even after it's left, as clear cut as any after image of a ghost that's just departed through a wall.
The voice that cuts the sweat-born heat still hanging around them turns her gaze back to the man that's present. An unashamed grin responds as she leans further back again, knees pressing in deeper around either side of him as she shifts. "It's not your mouth I'm worried about," she drawls with a lazy heat, a hand reaching out to cup his chin briefly before her thumb slides over his bottom lip, seeming to inspect the very claim she's made. "What can you see?" she wonders, curious not if it works, though she does lift a hand to wave back and forth across his eyes to see if he flinches a touch. If anything, she's wondering who she might become for him. Normally, she'd prefer to be the one who's seen, the one earning the release and every step in-between, but tonight? Tonight she doesn't mind stepping a bit further away from herself, as if all of her can be taken off as easily as the hat and wig she grabs and tosses aside now with a muffled thump on the floor.
It frees up the climb of her shirt, the fabric guided easily by his hands, her arms leaving their curls around him to clasp each other above her head and make the process fluid. Her back arches, breasts reaching for even more of her touch as her head tips back. "Quite," she manages out as a breathy moan, entirely pleased with her strategy.
Colt
I spent the night on the ceiling, drank the whole weight of my weakness
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.
