Predator and prey they both are, tangled in this web of Safrin's making. It is a symphony perfectly conducted, a monument lovingly crafted, a testament to time and the hearts of men.
Goosebumps dance across her skin at his touch as if even the cells of her skin yearn for more, rising and thrusting at the ghost of his presence. Her form is effortlessly elegant, straddling the line between toned and voluptuous with ease. As he touches her, his fingers tentative even in their brutality, she knows it isn't enough. It isn't all he can give. She sees his wings stutter, his breath hitch and throat close, she can feel the need of his erection like a divining rod, and still it is not enough.
It won't be enough until he fills her; until all thought is jettisoned and he is filled by love for her, and her alone. She will take from him the last breath of rationality only to shove him from the clifftops into a sea of pleasure the likes of which he's never known. She will be an echo in every orgasm to come, an afterimage behind his eyes.
He will find her already wet, the slickness as sweet as any water in a desert, the heat of her skin hot as any sun. Hips tilting forward, Safrin gazes up at him with lazy eyes and lips parted. Her tongue mirrors the motion of his finger against her lower lip, as her clawed fingers reduce the remaining side of his pants to mere tattered at his feet. "I have given you reason to doubt me." She whispers, though it's unclear if her lips have moved at all.
Eyes locked upon his, she lets her fingers glide down the wrist of the hand softly caressing her clit. Removing them, she plunges her own fingers inside of herself, before lubricating the head of his cock with a single finger. Vergewe my?
Goosebumps dance across her skin at his touch as if even the cells of her skin yearn for more, rising and thrusting at the ghost of his presence. Her form is effortlessly elegant, straddling the line between toned and voluptuous with ease. As he touches her, his fingers tentative even in their brutality, she knows it isn't enough. It isn't all he can give. She sees his wings stutter, his breath hitch and throat close, she can feel the need of his erection like a divining rod, and still it is not enough.
It won't be enough until he fills her; until all thought is jettisoned and he is filled by love for her, and her alone. She will take from him the last breath of rationality only to shove him from the clifftops into a sea of pleasure the likes of which he's never known. She will be an echo in every orgasm to come, an afterimage behind his eyes.
He will find her already wet, the slickness as sweet as any water in a desert, the heat of her skin hot as any sun. Hips tilting forward, Safrin gazes up at him with lazy eyes and lips parted. Her tongue mirrors the motion of his finger against her lower lip, as her clawed fingers reduce the remaining side of his pants to mere tattered at his feet. "I have given you reason to doubt me." She whispers, though it's unclear if her lips have moved at all.
Eyes locked upon his, she lets her fingers glide down the wrist of the hand softly caressing her clit. Removing them, she plunges her own fingers inside of herself, before lubricating the head of his cock with a single finger. Vergewe my?
SAFRIN
