i love ya, will you marry me?

KIADA

the harpy

It makes her turn to putty too, for being such a strong woman, willed and shut off from almost everyone and everything, to be cautious and protective all the same, it isn’t easy for her to let herself open up to the possibilities. But that’s trust, isn’t it? She trusts him so incredibly much, that the hand that wraps around her throat doesn’t fear her, that she uses it to tempt him further. For the possibility of sharp bites and bruises, closing off a bit of wind from her throat, for experiencing and drowning in the ability that is them. Like night and day. Her impatience rivals his patience. His brutish, clumsy actions rival her agility. It’s like they were made for each other, two puzzle pieces able to fit together without any problems at all.

It’s how she fits with him now, legs draped over his shoulders as he gives her a look of hunger and she aches with it, putting on a slight show as she slips the shirt from her body. Entirely bare, scars and porcelain skin laid out for him. A feast, if the shift to her hips are any signs.

She had told him she won’t break, but she knows he’ll be able to get her to beg for it. After all, how long has it been? Perhaps not long in this dream-like state, but where she’s from, a world without him? She can’t remember the last time she’s been worshipped, been devoured, like a Sunday morning prayer, to let her fire encompass and encapsulate. She thinks she might be too much for most, in the end. And here? With him? He’s always been the stone. Unable to be burned, a place of gravity to center herself.

And center herself, she does.

She leans back on her elbows as his tongue meets her, legs spreading slightly further as he taunts her. And he succeeds, with a whimper leaving her as his tongue reaches her clit and it’s not enough. It does manage to make her crave him even further, however, wondering how she should go about giving in, begging to have him inside her as far as he can go and then some. Puzzle pieces, with no space between them. Her back arches with the tender movements he gives her, biting down on her lower lip as the need for him crashes over her like a tidal wave, hips bucking for him, heels pulling him in close. Only he’s paused, withdrawn from her to look, and she seeks out his gaze from between her legs.

A feral grin is sent his way as she reaches with one hand, caressing the back of his head with gentle movements, fingers digging gently into the columns of his neck, before pulling him into her again as her heels try to pull him in and her hips try to settle with a swift movement along his tongue. She won’t let him get away with just that.

what a shame we gotta pay for reality

As her heels press against him, it will be like meeting a stone pillar, though there is no magic at play. His heart is beating far too fast in his chest for his magic to properly take hold. Instead, it is all muscle. Even as her fingers twine through his course hair, trying to drag him back against her, he resists easily. The space between his lips and hers is hardly anything at all; likely she can feel his every breath. But for all his will power it might as well be an impossible expanse of desert: he a stalwart traveler, and she the lush oasis glistening on the other side. She is all he wants. All he can think of.

Even so, beneath the line of the table his erection is such that his hips ignore the commands of his mind, straining forward against the fabric of his pants to create a friction that makes his cheeks flush with a demanding sort of desire. He snarls at that, a growl beginning low in the back of his throat. His mind offers images of her pale hands against his dark cock, her fingers trickling over his skin like water. Moving of his own accord despite the insistent pulsing of her heels and fingers, he raises a single finger and places it in his mouth. She is wet enough that this is entirely unnecessarily, but he lavishes it as he absolutely hasn’t lavished her. Yet. “Ohne more tahste thehn...” He growls, inserting his fingertip only up to his first knuckle. Which is to say, hardly at all. Strong as his fingers are, they don’t compare to his cock, and like his ministrations previously, this is a frustrating tease at best.

With the most gentle of come hither gestures inside of her, he presses the flat of his tongue against her, lapping upwards until the tip of his tongue glides against her clit once more. The scent of her is nearly dizzying, and as his finger slides slowly out of the swollen opening of her, he growls with frustration and a deep-seated desire. With a moan that sounds more like stones crashing against each other, it is Ru’in’s turn to succumb to unfettered want.

Surging forward, he devours her.

His hands find her thighs, curling around to her ass and tugging her forward so that only her lower back is on the table. Supporting her easily with his hands and shoulders, the elephant’s tongue soaks up her wetness, moaning his heated appreciation against her. Again and again his tongue enters her, trickling upwards before retreating entirely to focus on her clit. There it revolves, showing a skill that isn’t present when he tries to speak. But in this, he’s more than articulate. His cleft lip is no barrier here as he skillfully flicks his tongue in a steady stream, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of her inner thighs.

RU'IN