Matthew had a strange look in his eyes when she spoke. That look made her forget all about corpses and anatomy and all the curious things she had just wondered about momentarily. Were they even having a conversation? His eyes had a gleam in them that she could not define. It was something she hadn’t ran across before. Matthew kept his gaze on her and in a way she felt pinned by it. Even as he rose up above her where she reclined, he did not break eye contact. To call his bright blue gaze luminous would be an understatement. Kavala could equate them to someone webrunning forward, scouting, where the djed tended to pool in their eyes. But truthfully it was something more. And while his gaze was predatory, there was something else there, something deeper, older, and only just realized.
When he came up on his knees, she reached instinctively slumped back into the sand – not all the way – but back enough to gain a bit of space, surprised he didn’t grant her the wish she’d expressed to encircle him, stroke his back, nibble at his neck. He’d always been so giving before, ready to indulge her. But this… this was a ferocity brought on from someplace deep where he denied and controlled everything about the moment rather than catering to her demands. It lit a fire in her, one that was sudden and surprising. What she had wanted was a sweet gentle torment. What he gave her was something else altogether.
Leaning over her, forcing her thighs open, Matthew felt strong to her. He was both larger and more powerful than she was. His shadow blocked out the sun and his demeanor demanded she pay attention to nothing but him. And in that position, he touched her, demanded, desired, and didn’t give her a chance to respond or speak. When she opened her mouth to speak he settled down on her. His weight was a sweet agony that caused her to whimper and shift beneath him. She had no breath to talk and within moments had no desire too. His solid chest flattened her softer one. His forehead pressed hers. And she could almost feel her energy roar up and lick at his as his overwhelmed hers and united. Kavala’s eyes drifted shut, having no will to speak suddenly, and no need to change anything. She went back on her palms and then rested into the sand. His hand snaked around her, stroking her spine. Kavala held nothing back. She wasn’t the type to do. The pale woman cried out her joy and need, pressing herself closer to Matthew. She wasn’t even a woman anymore, not really, not as she had known her life to be. Instead she was an instrument, gently pinned and cradled in Matthew’s arms expectantly. The music was coming… and not in a soft faint melody, but in something fierce and crashing, and full of need.
She could feel him and opened wider, her aura and her actions crying out for it. She would never be the type of lover that softly gave. This was more her, this wild unfettered thing writhing beneath him, demanding, crying out, and utterly needful. His words simply drove home her feelings. She loved the demand of his voice, the deep drawn out word that was punctuated and enunciated perfectly. It caused her eyes to open again and meet his. Her orbs were a darker shade than normal. When she was angry or upset, they leaned towards the color of sunlight reflected through ice, pale and chilly. But this shade was burning, a white-hot blue that took in everything in his eyes and demanded more as her gaze sought his soul.
There was djed in her, a lot of it, and it surged forward and tried to tap fire. But no one had shown her how to harness the elements. No res had yet touched her body to contaminate it with the virus-like knowledge of how to reproduce. The fire in her was trapped, untapped, and it caused her aura to flare even more brightly in his altered gaze.
He felt her fall back completely, letting the sand take her weight as she reached up with her whole body and encircled him. Slim scaled legs wrapped their corded muscles around him, a testimony to her years on horseback. She gripped his body to hers and let her arms encircle his torso, bringing them together. Pale teeth grazed his neck at his pulse point, and then a tongue traced his jawline. She whimpered like an animal under him, her whole body growing hotter and hotter as heat pooled in her sex and set fire to her belly.
She couldn’t have called magic had she known any. And there were no webs here to tap into and draw strength from. There was only the bright burning orb of Syna in the endless expanse of incredibly blue sky. There were only the trees and the shrubs and even the tall salt grass that grew on the edge of the cove. Kavala’s horse was off somewhere, giving them time and space. So besides Caiyha, the only one left was Semele who cradled Kavala against her, holding her supportively as Matthew drew out her passion and drew it out and drew it out and drew it out.
In the end, the only thing Kavala could do was feel. And she felt deeply. The emotion had a name, a face, and a scent. The desire within her had a warmth that was white-hot pressed against her. Its face reflected Matthews features. Its scent was his scent. It’s voice was his voice. But in the end, it was something so pure, so elemental, that its strength caused the whole of her race and his race to perpetuate. And while she named the thing Matthew, a more disassociated person would call the thing that had Kavala in its grip the term “need”.
Kavala needed.
She needed his taste, his touch, the feel of his hands on her. She needed his mouth against hers, on her body, his hand on her ass, his hand on her breast. She needed his skin against hers, and even liked the roughness of his chin when he hadn’t shaved for a day or two. But mostly she craved something he hadn’t given her yet. She craved a closeness they hadn’t shared. And as she lost her mind beneath him, with his weight on her pinning her down and his voice rough in her ear…. he could tell her body was ready. Her skin was hot, burning his, and where he brushed her causing her agony, he could feel the state of her body, the slickness of her core. Her awareness was gone from her eyes. In its place was something wild, needful, and demanding. This was no gentle play, no cuddling comfort of soft talk – list making – while they were wrapped in each others arms. This was something altogether different. And while Matthew heard music, Kavala heard only their heartbeats, which sounded like the thundering of herds racing across the Sea of Grass, hooves echoing off the body of their mother Semele. It felt wild, unfettered, and a whole lot like being or coming home.
Count: 1,214
When he came up on his knees, she reached instinctively slumped back into the sand – not all the way – but back enough to gain a bit of space, surprised he didn’t grant her the wish she’d expressed to encircle him, stroke his back, nibble at his neck. He’d always been so giving before, ready to indulge her. But this… this was a ferocity brought on from someplace deep where he denied and controlled everything about the moment rather than catering to her demands. It lit a fire in her, one that was sudden and surprising. What she had wanted was a sweet gentle torment. What he gave her was something else altogether.
Leaning over her, forcing her thighs open, Matthew felt strong to her. He was both larger and more powerful than she was. His shadow blocked out the sun and his demeanor demanded she pay attention to nothing but him. And in that position, he touched her, demanded, desired, and didn’t give her a chance to respond or speak. When she opened her mouth to speak he settled down on her. His weight was a sweet agony that caused her to whimper and shift beneath him. She had no breath to talk and within moments had no desire too. His solid chest flattened her softer one. His forehead pressed hers. And she could almost feel her energy roar up and lick at his as his overwhelmed hers and united. Kavala’s eyes drifted shut, having no will to speak suddenly, and no need to change anything. She went back on her palms and then rested into the sand. His hand snaked around her, stroking her spine. Kavala held nothing back. She wasn’t the type to do. The pale woman cried out her joy and need, pressing herself closer to Matthew. She wasn’t even a woman anymore, not really, not as she had known her life to be. Instead she was an instrument, gently pinned and cradled in Matthew’s arms expectantly. The music was coming… and not in a soft faint melody, but in something fierce and crashing, and full of need.
She could feel him and opened wider, her aura and her actions crying out for it. She would never be the type of lover that softly gave. This was more her, this wild unfettered thing writhing beneath him, demanding, crying out, and utterly needful. His words simply drove home her feelings. She loved the demand of his voice, the deep drawn out word that was punctuated and enunciated perfectly. It caused her eyes to open again and meet his. Her orbs were a darker shade than normal. When she was angry or upset, they leaned towards the color of sunlight reflected through ice, pale and chilly. But this shade was burning, a white-hot blue that took in everything in his eyes and demanded more as her gaze sought his soul.
There was djed in her, a lot of it, and it surged forward and tried to tap fire. But no one had shown her how to harness the elements. No res had yet touched her body to contaminate it with the virus-like knowledge of how to reproduce. The fire in her was trapped, untapped, and it caused her aura to flare even more brightly in his altered gaze.
He felt her fall back completely, letting the sand take her weight as she reached up with her whole body and encircled him. Slim scaled legs wrapped their corded muscles around him, a testimony to her years on horseback. She gripped his body to hers and let her arms encircle his torso, bringing them together. Pale teeth grazed his neck at his pulse point, and then a tongue traced his jawline. She whimpered like an animal under him, her whole body growing hotter and hotter as heat pooled in her sex and set fire to her belly.
She couldn’t have called magic had she known any. And there were no webs here to tap into and draw strength from. There was only the bright burning orb of Syna in the endless expanse of incredibly blue sky. There were only the trees and the shrubs and even the tall salt grass that grew on the edge of the cove. Kavala’s horse was off somewhere, giving them time and space. So besides Caiyha, the only one left was Semele who cradled Kavala against her, holding her supportively as Matthew drew out her passion and drew it out and drew it out and drew it out.
In the end, the only thing Kavala could do was feel. And she felt deeply. The emotion had a name, a face, and a scent. The desire within her had a warmth that was white-hot pressed against her. Its face reflected Matthews features. Its scent was his scent. It’s voice was his voice. But in the end, it was something so pure, so elemental, that its strength caused the whole of her race and his race to perpetuate. And while she named the thing Matthew, a more disassociated person would call the thing that had Kavala in its grip the term “need”.
Kavala needed.
She needed his taste, his touch, the feel of his hands on her. She needed his mouth against hers, on her body, his hand on her ass, his hand on her breast. She needed his skin against hers, and even liked the roughness of his chin when he hadn’t shaved for a day or two. But mostly she craved something he hadn’t given her yet. She craved a closeness they hadn’t shared. And as she lost her mind beneath him, with his weight on her pinning her down and his voice rough in her ear…. he could tell her body was ready. Her skin was hot, burning his, and where he brushed her causing her agony, he could feel the state of her body, the slickness of her core. Her awareness was gone from her eyes. In its place was something wild, needful, and demanding. This was no gentle play, no cuddling comfort of soft talk – list making – while they were wrapped in each others arms. This was something altogether different. And while Matthew heard music, Kavala heard only their heartbeats, which sounded like the thundering of herds racing across the Sea of Grass, hooves echoing off the body of their mother Semele. It felt wild, unfettered, and a whole lot like being or coming home.
Count: 1,214