Mount Apikuni i mean, when he made love to me, it was like he was fixing a carbouretter or sommink—
wearing my dream like a diadem in some better land.
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He doesn’t have to bite her lips for her to invite him in and rediscover her. She tastes the wars on his tongue.  Andy,  his thundersoft timbre.  Andy mine—
Andy!’
—dark lashes still a bit filmy and herself, achey, quivery as the fairylight shivers awake. She’s still trembling, even when hesitant halfsights come to alight upon a creature that is dark and yet is not him. A curled creature, a tucked-tail creature; a creature from the gnarled ember’d woods of the Uaine and alldruid. Not her bewitcher, but instead—
How do you fare this evening, Bhediya?

Winged brows writ with some gentled, perhaps graceless concern for the gait of her inked well-wisher. Corners of ruined mouth quiver, try to skip into a smile;
but such a simple act could not have been more enervating. Nevermind — what ever was the sibyl doing so far from her faerie circles?
Messages In This Thread
RE: i mean, when he made love to me, it was like he was fixing a carbouretter or sommink— - by Andraste - January 05, 2020, 08:48 PM