Marvelous hasn't been on the ship that long, but it's already hard to remember how things were without him. I don't think I'll ever tell him so, but he is, without a doubt, the greatest treasure I ever could have found.
AkaRed brought me on board with the promise of treasure and riches beyond imagination, and while gold has a price, I had thought that the specific treasure he had offered me - the treasure of a life safe from Zangyack's hunt and the charnel house of their Goumin interbreeding farms - was truly the greatest imaginable boon that could be granted me. I was more than willing to give up my independence and submit to AkaRed as my captain if it meant a chance at grasping that dreamworld, the closest thing to happiness that I imagined any wretch of my race could hope to claim.
My mistake, I suppose, that I didn't imagine Marvelous.
The fear of the hunt enters my mind more and more infrequently these days. Extremes like tonight's exercise in masochism, when I subject myself to temperatures which to me feel nigh unbearable, just to keep my beast at bay, used to be everyday occurrences for me. Now. . . Not so much.
I nip and growl against Mabe's throat, loving the way he tenses against me, offers his skin in a way that is actually a command, a demand that I pleasure him in the ways he wants to be pleasured. And so I do, teeth scraping a tingling path before I find the perfect spot and bite down, suckling a sanguine mark to fullness under my lips. When I pull back to look at it, it's utterly lovely, but lonely. I give it a few friends.
He shivers against me, everything from his shoulders through his hips quivering lightly, and I press my body closer to his, one hand spread possessively over his rump, fingertips digging into the vee of his crack, through his pants. I mean to bury myself there, and I know he knows my intent. This, right now, is all the warning he'll get, the only consent I'll ask for; if he lets me proceed now but decides to fight me later, he won't win. I know what I want from him and I'm going to have it.
My teeth nip his earlobe, tongue tracing the shell and tickling in deeper. I'll have me in every opening he's got, maybe. It's a mindblowingly hot thought, but really, creativity like that takes so much PATIENCE. And I just want to shoot my load into him, as many times as he can stay conscious for. Tonguefucking his ear might have to wait.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-11-05 07:11 pm (UTC)AkaRed brought me on board with the promise of treasure and riches beyond imagination, and while gold has a price, I had thought that the specific treasure he had offered me - the treasure of a life safe from Zangyack's hunt and the charnel house of their Goumin interbreeding farms - was truly the greatest imaginable boon that could be granted me. I was more than willing to give up my independence and submit to AkaRed as my captain if it meant a chance at grasping that dreamworld, the closest thing to happiness that I imagined any wretch of my race could hope to claim.
My mistake, I suppose, that I didn't imagine Marvelous.
The fear of the hunt enters my mind more and more infrequently these days. Extremes like tonight's exercise in masochism, when I subject myself to temperatures which to me feel nigh unbearable, just to keep my beast at bay, used to be everyday occurrences for me. Now. . . Not so much.
I nip and growl against Mabe's throat, loving the way he tenses against me, offers his skin in a way that is actually a command, a demand that I pleasure him in the ways he wants to be pleasured. And so I do, teeth scraping a tingling path before I find the perfect spot and bite down, suckling a sanguine mark to fullness under my lips. When I pull back to look at it, it's utterly lovely, but lonely. I give it a few friends.
He shivers against me, everything from his shoulders through his hips quivering lightly, and I press my body closer to his, one hand spread possessively over his rump, fingertips digging into the vee of his crack, through his pants. I mean to bury myself there, and I know he knows my intent. This, right now, is all the warning he'll get, the only consent I'll ask for; if he lets me proceed now but decides to fight me later, he won't win. I know what I want from him and I'm going to have it.
My teeth nip his earlobe, tongue tracing the shell and tickling in deeper. I'll have me in every opening he's got, maybe. It's a mindblowingly hot thought, but really, creativity like that takes so much PATIENCE. And I just want to shoot my load into him, as many times as he can stay conscious for. Tonguefucking his ear might have to wait.