crushed_pearls: (Default)
[personal profile] crushed_pearls
Erin's voice mail message is in a weary voice: "Erin Peters. If you called in the middle of the night and I didn't answer, I'm dying. If I pick up and someone on your end isn't dying, they will be shortly. Text otherwise."

Date: 2024-01-07 07:30 pm (UTC)
abhorrently: (quiet.)
From: [personal profile] abhorrently
What she won't say is that it all feels good, in its own way. Placing her life in 44's hands, the woman could do much worse than a few bites, and Fever would accept it under these conditions for the sake of feeling it. But the matched bite sends another throb through her body, making her exhale shaky, heart beginning to pick up in her chest. And though it takes her a second to place what 44 is doing, when she does get it, it settles into her body as a low heat.

Scenting her. There's whatever the Village left on her, with their clothes and their grounds and the day to day. There's the dust of the crypt they have her sleeping in, though it lacks the detachment from time. And then there's her, half-elven and willingly in 44's power, and this situation assuredly arouses her.

Date: 2024-01-14 10:53 pm (UTC)
arrayerofrazors: (Default)
From: [personal profile] arrayerofrazors
Her face drifts closer; teasing, it has to be teasing on purpose. Scenting and smiling, looking at 17's nudity with a decidedly satisfied air. Nudging her folds with just the tip of 44's nose, playful and ever-so-gently mocking.

"Mine," the darkling breathes at last.

Her licks are long and slow, at first. She keeps stopping to smear the taste of her new lover all around her lips.

Date: 2024-01-20 03:10 am (UTC)
abhorrently: (Default)
From: [personal profile] abhorrently
Anticipation is its own form of winding the tension closer, and she feels 44's eyes on her as a physical weight. Touching her without touching her, keeping her from being able to do more than wait, and it's novel. There's a difference between the bonds the Village wants to keep her in, and the ones she submits to - in one, she is safe.

Hers, for now. And being hers means that 44 can hear the way Fever breathes in, out slowly, a little more ragged. Eyes drifting half shut, focusing on feeling. The unyielding stability of the altar, the warmth of 44's mouth. It's a good contrast, and she enjoys it thoroughly.

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