AmaLIa
shield of safrin
Aftershocks and afterglow: she is awash in both, her body vibrating, her face alight, the flush of her cheeks a radiant ruby as she basks in the final waves of her release. Each kiss he gives is a fiery reminder, a static shock, a promise. Head thrown back and eyes pulled closed, she purrs against his gentle ministrations, all the tension of her body washed away in the bath.
By the time he reaches her nape her hands have returned to his strong face, cupping cheeks and caressing hair in an abundance of ardor. The mouth on her ear elicits another gasp, one that is swiftly swallowed by his lips. Toes curling as her body ignites again, Amalia accept the kisses greedily, her fingers gripping among the locks of hair as she presses back, needing and wanting more.
He lifts her up into his lap, and though she shifts her hips to help she does not release her hold upon him, body following and pressing against his. She is soft curves and hard angles yet she fits against him as though she were made for it, legs wrapping comfortably around his waist, arms slipping tightly over his shoulders, mouth buried into the crook of his neck. She can feel him between them, his desire for her: it lights an even brighter fire, inspires a hunger only be can quell.
Lips trace hungrily to his ear, pulling the lobe gently between her teeth. "What do you want, my Deimos?" The heat of her breath trails up the shell of it; her hips press suggestively against his own, intentions clear in the warmth of her groin.
By the time he reaches her nape her hands have returned to his strong face, cupping cheeks and caressing hair in an abundance of ardor. The mouth on her ear elicits another gasp, one that is swiftly swallowed by his lips. Toes curling as her body ignites again, Amalia accept the kisses greedily, her fingers gripping among the locks of hair as she presses back, needing and wanting more.
He lifts her up into his lap, and though she shifts her hips to help she does not release her hold upon him, body following and pressing against his. She is soft curves and hard angles yet she fits against him as though she were made for it, legs wrapping comfortably around his waist, arms slipping tightly over his shoulders, mouth buried into the crook of his neck. She can feel him between them, his desire for her: it lights an even brighter fire, inspires a hunger only be can quell.
Lips trace hungrily to his ear, pulling the lobe gently between her teeth. "What do you want, my Deimos?" The heat of her breath trails up the shell of it; her hips press suggestively against his own, intentions clear in the warmth of her groin.
you can't choose what stays
and what fades away
and what fades away
