ASK FOR A KISS AND YOU GET ONE 💋 * accepting. selective.
CRY WOLF, SO THAT YOUR PLEA MAY FALL UPON DEAF EARS. cry wolf, to welcome him into your home. cry wolf, to give him rest upon your bosom. cry wolf, & his n a m e along with it —— loud, into the night, so that he may come. & come he does.
WHO IS THE WOLF? is it she, with claws adorning strong fingers, with fangs ready to pierce flesh & tear on through to draw precious blood as RED as her hair? is it he, savage divine that pulls himself from fire & ash to smile at her now with UNTAMED lust?
she can smell the intoxication ( port: the sweetness of grapes, the heaviness of alcohol ) on his breath, the cigarette smoke mixed with a specific brand of cologne that she has yet to scent anywhere else —- if she were so religious as he, she would beg the heavens for clemency for imagining the fragrance on other men —- as she settles herself on his lap. where he is graceless in the way he sits beneath her, she is delicate in the movement of her hands, in slipping dark fabric from his head & shoulders to let fall onto the floor.
WHO IS THE PREY? he lies on the altar of her desire, holiness ready to be DEVOURED. she is as a gift, adorned in the fruits of his affections ( embellished, marked, as hallowed as he ), ready to be CONSUMED.
were they the sort, their hunger would be satiated in a moment, their flesh showing forth the yield of their GOOD & HOLY work. but oh, there is nothing good, here. the way her hands are splayed across the firmness of his breast is devilish, & the darkness of once-emerald eyes in the dimness of the room is unrighteous. she wants him stripped, crying ( wolf ! wolf ! ) to the twilight, speaking from full lips words that are meant only for her ears. SHE WANTS HIS CHAOS, SHE WANTS HIS SANCTITY.
there is a FIRE that buries itself in her bones, a death that squanders the ichor within her veins ; she, provocateur —— angry, angry, angry ! it is simmering ire that releases alabastrine breasts from the hold of their brassière. it is FURY that seizes his hair and pulls, for exposure & vulnerability must be equal. red lips are pressed to the edge of his jaw, the crook of his neck, the peak of his collarbone, leaving marks in their wake that will surely mirror her own in the coming hours. ALL IN DUE TIME —– FOR WOLVES MUST FINISH THE HUNT BEFORE THEY RAVAGE ; & they have just begun.
annaxmalina
tangentwithtanner
dededos
blakekathryn
stormborns
pixelskylines
