it's true, i crave you
08-07-2013, 10:24 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-07-2013, 10:26 PM by Isardis.)
isardis
Still, she would seize his interest as if she were the palm of curiosity itself; ruby gaze restlessly gliding from golden contours to colossal paws, so famished for her contact, so desperate to fulfil his desires. She would hover with guiltless presence, pinning the duo close, the heat of her breath sending his pores into endless flurries of ecstasy as sinister thoughts would continue to brew. The extreme anxiety to overwhelm her growing stronger and stronger by the instant, his body denying the wisdom of his mind; the tiny reminder that would warn him of the banshee?s looming significance, impeccable splendour. Though he could not be deterred by hazard, not now. A pale tongue would reach for contact, sparking with imaginary friction against the pulsing of his jugular; simultaneously he would growl, the chasms of his throat rumbling with fluctuating differences, boasting of both pleasured electricity and unfavoured objection. Coral lip would curl against the seamless surfaces of polished weapons, flashing with momentary hostility before the beast would plunge deeper within her nape, searching to grasp skin and flesh, to hold her in his grasp, to both cease her efforts and persuade them concurrently. He wanted her. He needed her. He would have her. Though the undomesticated banshee would falter in her ways, a flaw beneath her surface slowly rising as she would draw them apart; perhaps in disapproval of his denial, a frail attempt at claiming a feeble and non-existent hierarchy. Isardis would begin to shake, trembling as if her distance had stolen his warmth; disapproval evident within the venomous gape of his eyes, a supernatural hiss crawling free of shuddering jaws as he would be denied of her contact. Anger would surge his heart, pulse his veins, rattle the cage of his internal monster as it attempted to break free, only to be loosely subsided by the sanity of his mind. Carelessly he would ignore her request, crawling forward like a wounded Doberman, guarding his pride with dripping fangs. Again he would attempt to draw them together, to push his nose within the crevice of her cheekbone, and eerily the ghoul would whisper, still shuddering with demonic want beneath his skin; ?I do not fancy being denied of the possessions I desire, seraph,? previously seamless lyrics would tremble half-heartedly, tainted by the wrath that poisoned his system, ?And I cannot declare I have ever yearned a demoness so extremely as I yearn for you.? A deep inhalation would mark an attempted conclusion, though thoughts were unable to be restrained, "You would look ever-so-lovely wearing a crown in my kingdom." |