there. the quickening of his heart. the sharpening of his jawline. all muscle and
nerve, ‘twixt the serpentine flames. crackling and hissing; their venom, their
intoxication. a sculpture on display, his flesh glistened against the glow of the
orange pyres. a seamless entertainment on gleaming hues, and in his, oh the
wonders. it’s him, and her. spilled ink mane a cape ‘pon a tigress’ back.
—- and she almost slipped away, again.
❛ oh no you won’t.❜ a hissing snarl vibrated through his neck, and a grunt
erupted from his volcanic mouth as he leaped. a powerhouse consuming
sulphur and iron, his form but the magma framing what lies before him. apex
predators beneath the night’s sway; they were not just two human bodies.
but two node-conveys of electrical arcs. unseen energy sizzled, and his body
crash-coursed against hers. she could take it, rhythmically, and with one
arm wrapping around her waist he brought their frames down with a shake of
the jungle’s floor. and gaze holds. strong, fervent, his eyes expanded alike
unreadable pools of blackness. ❛ has anyone told you that you’re like
a mouse?❜ a murmur, mellow tones fire at will. basest instincts the first
casualty.
this time he knows. this time she is not so quick. it is utterly dizzying, sharp taste of alcohol on her tongue, mixed with the honey comb and fruit she had downed along with it. the air leaves her lungs in one sharp gasp, leaves her chest aching. so sudden was the upheaval and descent that she feels yet as if her heart hangs in the air above them, not yet caught up with gravity. there are loud cheers and shouts, men raging over lost bets and women howling for haleth to stand! stand and beat this mortal man! but when her lungs fill with air again all she can do is laugh and laugh.
“ a mouse? no, that is not something i have ever been called before, ” she answers back, voice breathy and quiet between them. it does not sting her pride so much to be put upon her back like this and by a stranger no less, though she’s not sure if that is because she’s grown wiser with age or reckless with drink. her fingers dig against his shoulders, press sharp against unyielding coils of muscle beneath sweat slick skin. mischief lights her dark eyes, muscled thighs wrapping around his middle, hips twisting. he is heavy, but she is strong, and soon he is on his back, with she atop, her braids swinging forward to tickle at his cheeks.
“ there are stories about mice and lions. i am more accustomed to being the lion. ”
blakekathryn
ellievsbear
amandla
andulkaphoto
stormborns
vaporwave
