your hands are scarred from murder

MAEA

Her response was immediate, relieved. Maea too angled herself closer so she could align with his body, press herself into his chest, hips, wrap her arms around his neck. Her head shifted away to offer her neck up to him and she quivered when he pressed his face into it, kissing her the way she loved so much. His towel was removed. As he shifted his hips into her, let her feel how hard he was, she sucked in a sharp breath. So keenly aware of the hot, silky skin against hers.

Maea raised a knee up, let it come to rest against his hip and rolled her hips gently, tried to fit him in between her thighs. She was so gone still, drunk on the pleasure; caught in that same wanton abandon she'd been in down in the Advocate's hidehout, with not a thought for anything but the present moment, beyond considering consequences or accounting for any pain... what pain? She didn't feel it, didn't know anything but Sunjata and the hollow ache inside her. Needing him.

The 'how' didn't feel very important at all. "However you want," came the unhelpful answer, followed by another shift of her hips. Like this, on her back, it didn't matter, she couldn't think of any way that would be better than any other.

Lost in a world full of non-believers
Searching for smoke in a still water pond

BASE INSPIRED BY ODD <3