Dragoncrest Cliffs & all of the ghouls come out to play (mtr.)

last of the nit-picking from me! i promise ♥ some sentences just didn't sit/translate right for me riprip

This feeling, here; all of them. She felt like this even when they were apart; and something wicked and torturous in her reveled in the restraint, the wait, the holding out. She was the “temptress” that he may have accused her of—but she was entirely unaware of her effect on him. Aure stilled at his words, pupils billowing, breath coming quiet; almost as if she could scent the questions on him. A ravenous look, lurking beneath all the ardent tenderness. If she’d known, she didn’t want to take him the way some “wild woman” had—she flared at the thought, body wracked with cupidity. A look of: I-don’t-like-to-share. Purity? Maybe because she was virginal, and she’s never trusted someone so much... A look of: Chastity be damned, especially in Rhaesuial.

But she lowered her head, gaze ebbing into him in a moment of softness, her breath stuttering. ”Only if he wants her to be.” Her voice was lust-love-ridden, and she pressed herself back into his embrace. Despite her own hypocrisy, she eased down onto him, her throat pressed to his jaw for him to consume. Where his body was lax with acceptance, her own was likewise softened; all for him, only him, to mold to his will and want.

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Mature Content Warning

This thread has been marked as mature. By reading and/or participating in this thread, you acknowledge that you are of age or have permission from your parents to do so.

The participants have indicated the following reason(s) for this warning: Sexual themes & filth language, plot if you squint.

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A soft, throaty moan left her, if he mused his way from her throat, maybe to her jaw, and back again; her chin nuzzling between his ears. Her breath left her lungs in muted, heavy pants; a sudden nudge of his head snagging another, voiceless plea from her. All the same, she pressed a paw into his shoulder, his weight over her causing an arch in her spine. Bleary eyes flit to the entrance of the apothecary, and for a moment she dared a damned soul to find them as they were; wanted to see how she, ever-changing and borean and full of frost, wanted the teeth and claws and loving, ferocious savagery that this great shadow-of-the-sea could give. What love he could give, if it was there—and more. That was what made one wild.

She wanted the more. A slight frown of desire creased her muzzle, her brow. A primitive, dull thought of mine he’s mine I’m making him this way I’m making him make these noises, they’re mine rattled through her addled brain like a new constellation being strung up. She’d begun to mouth at his ears, shoulder leaping when he nipped at her pulse, a sound lower and weaker from before, moaned into his ruff.

”Please,” she whimpered, not even knowing what she was asking for. But she let him hold his weight over her, crowding her into the loam of the apothecary until she had no other choice but to ease onto her back. Breast heaving deep and slow, Aure drew away to teeth distractedly at his forelock, tail flickering and pressed between her thighs as she squirmed.

All the while she gazed up at him with a fucked-out, vestal, heavy-eyed expression—and they’d barely gotten anywhere. “You,” she strained, tongue laving sensually up his forearm, continuing to eye up at him. Again, she didn’t finish herself, and instead ended the accusation with a lovebite to the rise of his bicep. Breath warm, tongue warmer as she closed her eyes, pressing a soft moan into it.