kiss me on the mouth and set me free
sing me like a choir
sing me like a choir
Physical boundaries are no problem for Frey and their ghostly, magical hands. Though their physical hands are just as delightful, with a masculine strength that arches her head back, pressing the length of her body against warm skin. Nobody could top the perfect androgyny that Frey exhibits while projecting the amalgamation of her own desires, and Hotaru sinks her teeth into the plump of her own lip. Wanting to break the hold on her hair and bite into that long neck, but just as willing to be steered and held in place by a being far more powerful than herself.
Breath washes against her lips, and she licks them slowly as if savoring the taste. Curling around the deliciousness of the singular word and command. And then there is far more, plush lips that press firm, all-consuming. Sending shivers down her core to tremble in her thighs. Her clutched hand, however, never wavers. Rising and striking down in close to the same spot, to increase the sting and jolt of sensitivity. And perhaps to avoid having to part from Frey's mouth to look for another spot.
The weight is only partially noticed, too focused on the ripple of flesh, the smack of leather against skin, the wetness of tongue that she suckles and scrapes her teeth against. Far more promising, invigorating motions than whatever that pressure might be.
Breath washes against her lips, and she licks them slowly as if savoring the taste. Curling around the deliciousness of the singular word and command. And then there is far more, plush lips that press firm, all-consuming. Sending shivers down her core to tremble in her thighs. Her clutched hand, however, never wavers. Rising and striking down in close to the same spot, to increase the sting and jolt of sensitivity. And perhaps to avoid having to part from Frey's mouth to look for another spot.
The weight is only partially noticed, too focused on the ripple of flesh, the smack of leather against skin, the wetness of tongue that she suckles and scrapes her teeth against. Far more promising, invigorating motions than whatever that pressure might be.
i could be the subject of your dreams
your sickening desire
your sickening desire
