Nothing's New

She allowed Karaka to stroke a claw down her chest, Absinth’s words rumbling through the appendage as she bawdily explained of tongues and trouble. It was plain to see that the girl had grasped her meaning. Very good. She released a deep sigh, enjoying the additional touch in combination with their close quarters. It felt good. It beckoned her for more. What was even better was the reactive nature of her young amour, the flush of her orange cheeks, the baited breathing; all of it driving Absinth wild with the need to possess Raka. Keep her close, keep her safe, keep her. It was a resounding sentiment, equally growing as her desire did. It was paramount that she keep her limbs planted where they were in the ground, there would be no telling what they would do if she moved now. Those things had a mind of their own, you know.

Yet the slow pronunciation of her name called her out from her fixated thinking. She had been staring at Raka, trying to ground herself and relax some… and now the ferocity of her growing possessiveness was being fed with kindling. The horned girl wanted to stay with her. Ah. Ah. What was this? A test from gods she did not believe in? Self-control was not indomitable. Youth was no excuse to be so damn endearing. “Karaka…” Absinth began, emeralds clouded with lust. She was really, really trying to prolong the actual conversational part of their interaction, lest they always be doomed to engage in bodily proclivities… Was that a good excuse for not wanting to ravish the girl here and now? Haha. “What of your adventures, your stories?” The older girl murmured, flicking her gaze up at the colored stones above those pretty blue eyes.

wormwood