It is the beauty of her, that she is not hard in the ways he is. She is supple and yielding at times in a way he can never be, and as her body sculpts itself around his, as his fingertips press against her skill down to the muscle beneath, he is suddenly ravenous for all that she is. For the differences between them that have always made them fix together so seamlessly.
Beneath her wandering fingers his stomach tightens, midnight-sand skin stretched even more thinly as his abs tighten as if trying to suck back to allow her fingers entry. Already he is hard for her, but that is no surprise. He has never been able to simply look upon her in distant appreciation. Just as with his crafting either with bronze or stone, he needs to feel it beneath his fingers. The curl of her hair down her spine, the jut of her cheek across her shoulder, a raise of her eyebrows, the way she twirls her ring when she's thinking; any of these minute movements are enough to drive him wild with want.
There is a rumble of displeasure if only because removing his shirt requires pulling back from her, his hands parting from her skin. As she arches near—but not against him—the elephant places his hands on either side of the table, strong fingers clenching into the wood. The muscles of his upper arms are taught as her fingers roam across them to his shoulders, his ever instinct tenuously held back. Gods he wants her. Every inch, for every moment. He wants that pretty mouth contorted around his name, wants her fingernails to drag at his skin and wants her sweat to stain the table below. He wants to have and take in a way that is so primal that for a moment the elephant's gaze goes slightly blurred as the overwhelming need of her threatens to drown him.
"A taste," He agrees, his voice ragged and hard as he arches his own back if only to force himself to see her clearly. Raising a hand, he fits it around her throat as if marveling at just how delicate she can be. His eyes linger on the way her chest rises and falls with her breath, his thumb softly stroking down the strained chords of her neck before it lowers to her sternum and he presses down with surprising control and strength. With eyes that dare her defy him, his fingers ghost down the length of her stomach, wandering over the fabric that still covers her until he reaches her underwear. With a groan that slowly became a growl, his fingers hooked beneath the soft fabric, pulling them down her legs with painful slowness. Through hooded eyes, he looks at her for a moment as desire broils inside of him with a strength to rival the perpetual energy that his magic can harness.
Keeping his eyes trained on her even as he lowers himself down to be eye-level with the table, he reaches his arms around her thighs, pulling them apart. With a lingering and hungry look, a slight twitch of his cleft lip, his gaze dips down to her as his nostrils flare. "A taste.."
Beneath her wandering fingers his stomach tightens, midnight-sand skin stretched even more thinly as his abs tighten as if trying to suck back to allow her fingers entry. Already he is hard for her, but that is no surprise. He has never been able to simply look upon her in distant appreciation. Just as with his crafting either with bronze or stone, he needs to feel it beneath his fingers. The curl of her hair down her spine, the jut of her cheek across her shoulder, a raise of her eyebrows, the way she twirls her ring when she's thinking; any of these minute movements are enough to drive him wild with want.
There is a rumble of displeasure if only because removing his shirt requires pulling back from her, his hands parting from her skin. As she arches near—but not against him—the elephant places his hands on either side of the table, strong fingers clenching into the wood. The muscles of his upper arms are taught as her fingers roam across them to his shoulders, his ever instinct tenuously held back. Gods he wants her. Every inch, for every moment. He wants that pretty mouth contorted around his name, wants her fingernails to drag at his skin and wants her sweat to stain the table below. He wants to have and take in a way that is so primal that for a moment the elephant's gaze goes slightly blurred as the overwhelming need of her threatens to drown him.
"A taste," He agrees, his voice ragged and hard as he arches his own back if only to force himself to see her clearly. Raising a hand, he fits it around her throat as if marveling at just how delicate she can be. His eyes linger on the way her chest rises and falls with her breath, his thumb softly stroking down the strained chords of her neck before it lowers to her sternum and he presses down with surprising control and strength. With eyes that dare her defy him, his fingers ghost down the length of her stomach, wandering over the fabric that still covers her until he reaches her underwear. With a groan that slowly became a growl, his fingers hooked beneath the soft fabric, pulling them down her legs with painful slowness. Through hooded eyes, he looks at her for a moment as desire broils inside of him with a strength to rival the perpetual energy that his magic can harness.
Keeping his eyes trained on her even as he lowers himself down to be eye-level with the table, he reaches his arms around her thighs, pulling them apart. With a lingering and hungry look, a slight twitch of his cleft lip, his gaze dips down to her as his nostrils flare. "A taste.."
RU'IN
