// dance me through the panic 'til i'm gathered safely in
lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove //
lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove //
He wants to tell her all the things he’ll do, the way he’ll draw her out just as she does for him, but it dies immediately on his tongue with the quiet huff of a breath that he clamps down against hard with the lightning that sparks against his wrist. His heart thunders, skin flushing further as he tries to regain control of his breathing but she gives him little time. And so he crumbles, one brick at first, a low hum at the way she goes down on him again excruciatingly slow. He bites at the inside of his cheek, to swallow down the whine that nearly slips from his throat at her motions and the warmth and wetness she offers him paired with the hold she has.
And if he wasn’t already weak before, he certainly is now. “You wicked thing, you.” He manages through a hoarse voice, eyes glinting a hint darker, unable to keep the pant from leaving his lips with the words, the hitch of breath stuck in his throat. His fingers tighten in her hair again, tugging and pulling against the rhythm she picks along his aching length. “You’re going to tear me apart, aren’t you?” He challenges, his wings flaring again before they droop and drape along the edge of the bed, the ends of the wings brushing across the floor.
If she isn’t careful she’s absolutely going to get him off quicker than he anticipates, quicker than he’d like her to before he even has a chance to devour her in turn.
And if he wasn’t already weak before, he certainly is now. “You wicked thing, you.” He manages through a hoarse voice, eyes glinting a hint darker, unable to keep the pant from leaving his lips with the words, the hitch of breath stuck in his throat. His fingers tighten in her hair again, tugging and pulling against the rhythm she picks along his aching length. “You’re going to tear me apart, aren’t you?” He challenges, his wings flaring again before they droop and drape along the edge of the bed, the ends of the wings brushing across the floor.
If she isn’t careful she’s absolutely going to get him off quicker than he anticipates, quicker than he’d like her to before he even has a chance to devour her in turn.
dance me to the end of love
SUNJATA
Feel free to use magic/force on Sunjata, without killing him <3
Sunjata speaks with an Australian accent and has a passive magic that makes him produce a subtle scent that matches exactly to whatever those around him most desire him to smell like.
