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+--- Thread: Ravensblood Forest and iron filling her lungs (/showthread.php?tid=42013)
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RE: and iron filling her lungs - Nemisis - June 29, 2020
He accepts, and a million thoughts spin through her mind.
In all ways but his accursed halfling status, he was a suitable partner.
Gingerly she shifts, drawing herself out of the water. It Cascades off her pelt and a shaft of light lit her from behind, causing her to look almost etherial. She hated Making herself vulnerable. But if they were going to lead a pack together they had to behave as mates. So she turned her head, exposing the seeping wound.
RE: and iron filling her lungs - Kynareth Deagon - June 29, 2020
Donovan’s glowing orbs watch her form rise from the shallow river. The water rivulets dripping down the raven blacks marbled with the dusting of that deep brown. The intensity of the situation is not something he expected. Though now he really does know just how sacred blood is to her and her former pack. Who is he to deny a lady such an interesting request.
As she settles closer to him and turns her face another direction to show the wound Donovan inches closer. His golden hues run appreciatively along her form and then they flick up to her face.
“Mm,” he hums appreciatively at the first taste of blood when his tongue runs along the wounded area. Noticing the tension he holds he looks to resolve it as much as possible. “Relax, darling.” He says huskily. His odd colored tongue brushes languidly along the split flesh. Her blood pooling on his tongue as he laps sensually at the wound just to give the act that extra bit of tension he’s sure she can feel.
The taste of blood is intoxicating as usual and he almost wants to nip at the wound to spout more crimson from it. Though he settles with heated, flat tongue kisses to the cut. Then teasingly, his coin-gold eyes flick up to her once more. His golden hues are heated and he tries to make it as enjoyable for her as he’s able to.
RE: and iron filling her lungs - Nemisis - June 29, 2020
She feels his eyes run over her body and she can't help but give a sly smirk, despite the intensity of the ritual she has consented to. She is well aware of her beauty, and if it weren't so beneath her status would have made a fine Enchantress, as her pack called the lustful shewolves that were sent to gather information. His eyes in her made her throat clench, and the first touch of his tongue illicits a small gasp before she snaps her jaws shut again, eyes fixed forward.
Her father would disown her for these thoughts, were he still alive to do so. Her mother, probably either pregnant or nursing Vladimir's runts, would faint at the scandal of her daughter consorting with a filthy mutt.
He moans against her flesh and her tail arches high over her back. Mine. She wants to snarl. You are mine. My flesh is yours, and only I can make you utter such noises.
The thought jars her. It isn't love, for she doesn't even know what that means. It is a possession, a devotion, an expectation. He is hers. And she is his.
"My blood becomes yours. My flesh becomes yours. My strength becomes yours." She growls, reciting the ritual. "For the strength of the wolf is the blood. And the strength of the pack is the wolf."
RE: and iron filling her lungs - Kynareth Deagon - June 30, 2020
The gasp that comes from the usually always put together she-wolf make her seem a little disheveled for once. He decides he really likes that, making her feel frazzled and surprised by his capabilities. Which Donovan is sure she’s acutely aware of but doesn’t want to admit.
At the unusually mind melting words he finalizes the act by giving one more languid stroke of the black appendage against her broken skin. Pulling back he gazes into her eyes and smiles. It’s teasing yet it settles nicely on his handsome face. “I could keep going...” he says raising a brow comically. Though he admits he’s a bit scared of her thinking the words are him making fun of her ritual, which he is not trying to do. To him he’s simply breaking the ice.
RE: and iron filling her lungs - Nemisis - June 30, 2020
A warmth thrills her, with the way her draws back and looks at her.
A warmth she immediately not only doesn't want, but hates. She didn't want to feel. Didn't need it. And she sure as fuck didn't want or need anyone feeling anything for her. The sensation was alien and uncomfortable, and did little more than confuse and frustrate her.
She didn't meet his gaze, and his offer to continue was met with a cold, "That's quite sufficient, thank you." She takes a deep breath, collecting herself and willing away the dizzying sensation.
"You are mine. As much as I am yours. Our hearts beat with the same blood." She moved stiffly away from him, the adrenaline rush wearing off, suddenly tired from the fight.
RE: and iron filling her lungs - Kynareth Deagon - July 01, 2020
At his offer she gives a predictably cold reply that only furthers his assumptions that she really enjoyed it too much for her to come to terms with. Especially with a mutt like him. What it does do is make his smile wide. And he chuckling lowly.
Then at her next reply he nods. “I’m okay with that.” He says as he bumps shoulders easily with her. The moment is soft enough not to jostle any current wounds but probably not her easily frayed nerves. “Let’s get you to the den then.”