KORBIN
Remember when I swore
That you and I would never die
That you and I would never die
He had meant to take his time with the shirt, play a bit, drag it out for the both of them... but she promptly pulled it over her head, and he quickly had to pull his head out of the way, or be smothered in cloth. Not that he would mind; the fragrance of her skin clung to it, and he couldn't breathe deep enough to fill his lungs with it. Smirking down at her, Korbin straightened up a bit, eyes ranging hungrily over her exposed form, taking in the swell of breasts and and her toned, well-trained form. He didn't care about flat stomachs or thin arms, but she was decidedly not soft other than in the most shallow sense of the word. Some might have flinched from the sight of her scars, but he only regarded them with the same curious intent as the rest of her.
The fire building in him was becoming a bit too much to really endure, and Korbin was quickly growing tired of hunching down over her. He let her remove his shirt this time, helped by pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. The skin beneath was pale, entirely untouched by sun, but not unmarred; his lean, well-muscled torso had its own marks; a few scars along the ribs that could be knife wounds, some small burn marks, and a bump on the left side of his collarbone that suggested it had been broken at least twice. Most notable however was the ink. The tattooed feathers that spread from his back and draped over his shoulders, all the way down the upper arms. Life like, colored black and blue with touches of green, they graced the column of his neck - part of the raven that covered the better part of his upper back.
Letting her look all she wanted, if she was so inclined, Korbin reached for Kiada again, to pull her in and hoist her up by the thighs so he could carry her off towards the bed. He pressed kisses to her jaw as he went, burning to see more, feel more, taste more of her.
The fire building in him was becoming a bit too much to really endure, and Korbin was quickly growing tired of hunching down over her. He let her remove his shirt this time, helped by pulling it over his head and throwing it to the floor with her own. The skin beneath was pale, entirely untouched by sun, but not unmarred; his lean, well-muscled torso had its own marks; a few scars along the ribs that could be knife wounds, some small burn marks, and a bump on the left side of his collarbone that suggested it had been broken at least twice. Most notable however was the ink. The tattooed feathers that spread from his back and draped over his shoulders, all the way down the upper arms. Life like, colored black and blue with touches of green, they graced the column of his neck - part of the raven that covered the better part of his upper back.
Letting her look all she wanted, if she was so inclined, Korbin reached for Kiada again, to pull her in and hoist her up by the thighs so he could carry her off towards the bed. He pressed kisses to her jaw as he went, burning to see more, feel more, taste more of her.
Remember when you swore
we had it all?
we had it all?
