Amalia
the shield of safrin
She isn't looking for him to beg, doesn't want to bring him low, to entice him to grovel and plead. No, Amalia knows that Deimos is too proud and stalwart to let his voice raise into a whine, and she loves him for it, loves the confidence in what he wants, the way he treats her as someone deserving of respect. His hands on her skin are almost distracting; she whimpers against them, her head still unbowed, waiting for the answer she so desperately craves. More- not weak and mewling but savage, commanding, the words of someone who knows what they want and that they are fated to get it.
Because Amalia is not one for prolonged teasing; she is too impatient and impetuous for that, too eager and hungry to lavish and please. As soon as permission slips through his clenched teeth the Shield lowers her lips to take him, a swift and unapologetic motion, taking him in as far as she can-
-and coughing, choking, just a little, as her overzealous nature proves once again to be her undoing. Drawing her mouth up she flashes Deimos a bashful grin, hopeful he isn't too perturbed by her inexperienced fumble, the zeal which has so spectacularly backfired. The next time she descends it is with more caution, tongue reaching out first to caress his length, following fingers and rising up to flicker across the sensitive skin. Then her mouth: slower, careful, taking him gradually, letting him settle in the warmth of her mouth. Steadily, steadily, she finds a rhythm, body swaying with the ministrations, pace increasing as she gains confidence, hands assisting to tease and appease.
Because Amalia is not one for prolonged teasing; she is too impatient and impetuous for that, too eager and hungry to lavish and please. As soon as permission slips through his clenched teeth the Shield lowers her lips to take him, a swift and unapologetic motion, taking him in as far as she can-
-and coughing, choking, just a little, as her overzealous nature proves once again to be her undoing. Drawing her mouth up she flashes Deimos a bashful grin, hopeful he isn't too perturbed by her inexperienced fumble, the zeal which has so spectacularly backfired. The next time she descends it is with more caution, tongue reaching out first to caress his length, following fingers and rising up to flicker across the sensitive skin. Then her mouth: slower, careful, taking him gradually, letting him settle in the warmth of her mouth. Steadily, steadily, she finds a rhythm, body swaying with the ministrations, pace increasing as she gains confidence, hands assisting to tease and appease.
you drew memories in my mind
i could never erase
you painted colors in my heart
i could never replace
