KIADA
the harpy
He yields a hand, sending droplets along the stone floor, but it’ll dry easily enough — it’s the look he gives her, blank to some but s flame erupts beneath it. And she can tell, because she’s always been able to tell, but what surprises her in this… strange dream where things are perfect, is his openness to her. And it ignites with the intensity he has in his stare to her. Roving along her as though he can see beneath it all, and her head tilts enough to perhaps show off a small amount to him, shaking the dark crown of hair ever so slightly, to move away from covering her scars and her neck, her smile growing a small amount more bright, more leading —
And he’s moving to her, mugs having been discarded already on the table, she leans into his touch as though she’s starved. He wraps around her, and she presses back against him — always having that rough touch, always having been too afraid to do much of anything because of the inability he had for gentleness. Ah, but she has always been stronger than he thought, and she molds herself to him as he picks her up to move to the table, heart thundering and body awakening with the sudden electricity that zips beneath her skin. Then, she’s on the table and his rough hands reach to tug and run through her hair, and she obliges, a wolffish smirk on her face as she looks up to him, pale scar flecked fingers reaching for the strong columns of his neck where her thumbs can brush against his freckles.
“I think you might already know.” She hums to him, breathless before her hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck, to trap him, legs wrapping around his waist as though the distance between them is too much. She knows the clothes are too much too, and with that same feral gleam to her eye, wolffish smirk, hands tug at the collar of his shirt before drifting lower and lower down his torso, tantalizing until she reaches the V of his abdomen, before veering off for the fabric.
She’s going to make him have to work for it.
And he’s moving to her, mugs having been discarded already on the table, she leans into his touch as though she’s starved. He wraps around her, and she presses back against him — always having that rough touch, always having been too afraid to do much of anything because of the inability he had for gentleness. Ah, but she has always been stronger than he thought, and she molds herself to him as he picks her up to move to the table, heart thundering and body awakening with the sudden electricity that zips beneath her skin. Then, she’s on the table and his rough hands reach to tug and run through her hair, and she obliges, a wolffish smirk on her face as she looks up to him, pale scar flecked fingers reaching for the strong columns of his neck where her thumbs can brush against his freckles.
“I think you might already know.” She hums to him, breathless before her hands move from his cheeks to the back of his neck, to trap him, legs wrapping around his waist as though the distance between them is too much. She knows the clothes are too much too, and with that same feral gleam to her eye, wolffish smirk, hands tug at the collar of his shirt before drifting lower and lower down his torso, tantalizing until she reaches the V of his abdomen, before veering off for the fabric.
She’s going to make him have to work for it.
what a shame we gotta pay for reality
No permission needed for power play!
Feel free to use magic/force on Kiada, without killing her <3
