Phoebe
A light laugh was all he would get in response to his praises. With what he knew of her past - failed romances, marriages, pregnancies - he would have to be truly daft not to know she would argue he was the gift in this relationship. It wasn't like he gave much time for her to think of any other response anyways before tossing around her with ease.
Impatience was a good descriptor for the series of events to follow, yet none could wipe the grin from her lips. To be taken and left at the drop of a hat had seemed her fate for long enough that his rush for more, predictably insatiable, soothed old hurts and insecurities like a balm on her soul. Even as he yanked her head back and a slight gasp of surprise parted her lips, she continued to beam. Let Frey see her partake and enjoy of their most blessed communion (or was it cummunion?). Perhaps she was yet a young demigoddess who could not perform great feats or acts of heroism, but she could still honor her god and friend in this way.
Her back arched, bare skin pressed to bare skin as fingers pitter pattered their way down his back. Would she strike again with her gift? Would he be given reprieve to think with whatever clarity that yet remained? For now, he would remain in control of his senses, but now it would always be a possibility that she would bring him to his knees with but a touch. Instead fingers dipped beneath and tugged at his trousers, tugging them loose.
Men's clothes were such a pain with their buckles and buttons and ties.
Impatience was a good descriptor for the series of events to follow, yet none could wipe the grin from her lips. To be taken and left at the drop of a hat had seemed her fate for long enough that his rush for more, predictably insatiable, soothed old hurts and insecurities like a balm on her soul. Even as he yanked her head back and a slight gasp of surprise parted her lips, she continued to beam. Let Frey see her partake and enjoy of their most blessed communion (or was it cummunion?). Perhaps she was yet a young demigoddess who could not perform great feats or acts of heroism, but she could still honor her god and friend in this way.
Her back arched, bare skin pressed to bare skin as fingers pitter pattered their way down his back. Would she strike again with her gift? Would he be given reprieve to think with whatever clarity that yet remained? For now, he would remain in control of his senses, but now it would always be a possibility that she would bring him to his knees with but a touch. Instead fingers dipped beneath and tugged at his trousers, tugging them loose.
Men's clothes were such a pain with their buckles and buttons and ties.
she sprouted love like flowers
grew a garden in her mind
grew a garden in her mind
