dahlia
You can't buy this fineness
The heat is appreciated after the cold of dead space, and Dahlia soaks up as much of it as Sunjata is willing to give. The blood that pumps through his veins, the taste of his skin against her lips; every shift and reaction in his body is tantalising enough to keep her attention and then some. "Perhaps you should. You would receive a very, very warm welcome," she assures him, the words whispered against his jaw as he fingers spread to press against his chest, trying to trace the scars lighting up his skin beneath his shirt.
Forced to lean back a fraction as the Flood suddenly unleashes his wings to shroud and mantle them, Dahlia gasps with soft delight. Her hands take little time in wandering, her hips shifting to grind against him as she moves to track the membrane of the dark appendages, fingers pressing greedily against the joints. "And to think I could have been doing this back at your House of Midnight," she murmurs, kissing along the column of his throat.
Forced to lean back a fraction as the Flood suddenly unleashes his wings to shroud and mantle them, Dahlia gasps with soft delight. Her hands take little time in wandering, her hips shifting to grind against him as she moves to track the membrane of the dark appendages, fingers pressing greedily against the joints. "And to think I could have been doing this back at your House of Midnight," she murmurs, kissing along the column of his throat.
Let me see the heat get to it
