Don't make such filthy demands. [ beg him. command him. force him. ] Do you still think you're the one in control?
[ it's forced out, nearly panted, keeping himself just barely off her body with a single arm. two fingers slip in- three- he bites at her, sucks hard, drags beautiful stains of blue and purple and red on her neck and shoulders and breasts before he finally pulls his hand away.
except-
he doesn't stop. he keeps going, this time, leaving mark after mark after mark. her stomach. her hips. her thighs. each time, he feels more aggressive, more possessive, more hungry than ever before. an endless worm, only fit to eat and eat and eat. a reader kept in suspense for centuries, voraciously devouring every scrap put before him for his ending. each little cry, each little sound she makes is the proof he needs: he's hurt her, he's defiled her, he's made sure she can never, ever, ever escape his cruelty again.
he only moves to lap at her cunt when he's thoroughly satisfied. those dainty legs, covered from top to bottom in marks and hickeys and bruises and scratches. those beautiful eyes, filled with tears like stars reflecting on the water.
there's nothing precise about his technique now. gone are the days of him quickly, efficiently getting her where she needs to be. after all, this is for him, now, not her. ]
I can't help it... not when it's been this long, I missed you so much...
[ The words spill out of her, plaintive and needy and true. She feels so terribly lonely, so starved of touch and warmth even as she knows she has nobody to blame but herself. And even if she doesn't deserve it, even though needing it this badly makes her so unforgivably dirty - she doesn't care. All that matters right now is the sharp, bright sting of each mark blooming across her skin, the hot press of his mouth, the satisfaction of being marked all over, a proof of ownership that goes even deeper than a Command Seal.
Her voice rises sweetly with each new bite, each new bruise, each new scratch, sounding more and more blissfully helpless with each passing second. ]
Don't... don't tease me like that, don't make me wait, Oberon... ah, you're so mean, you're so...!
[ Or so she says, anyway. But it's transparently clear just how much she wants it. Everything from the tone of her pleading voice to the way her legs twitch and shake with each new mark - to how slick and needy she is and how eagerly her hips arch up into his mouth - betrays her and the noise that leaves her mouth, somewhere between a moan and a choked sob, is nothing short of obscene. ]
Mm...! Ah, like that, just like that, please, Oberon...
no subject
[ it's forced out, nearly panted, keeping himself just barely off her body with a single arm. two fingers slip in- three- he bites at her, sucks hard, drags beautiful stains of blue and purple and red on her neck and shoulders and breasts before he finally pulls his hand away.
except-
he doesn't stop. he keeps going, this time, leaving mark after mark after mark. her stomach. her hips. her thighs. each time, he feels more aggressive, more possessive, more hungry than ever before. an endless worm, only fit to eat and eat and eat. a reader kept in suspense for centuries, voraciously devouring every scrap put before him for his ending. each little cry, each little sound she makes is the proof he needs: he's hurt her, he's defiled her, he's made sure she can never, ever, ever escape his cruelty again.
he only moves to lap at her cunt when he's thoroughly satisfied. those dainty legs, covered from top to bottom in marks and hickeys and bruises and scratches. those beautiful eyes, filled with tears like stars reflecting on the water.
there's nothing precise about his technique now. gone are the days of him quickly, efficiently getting her where she needs to be. after all, this is for him, now, not her. ]
no subject
[ The words spill out of her, plaintive and needy and true. She feels so terribly lonely, so starved of touch and warmth even as she knows she has nobody to blame but herself. And even if she doesn't deserve it, even though needing it this badly makes her so unforgivably dirty - she doesn't care. All that matters right now is the sharp, bright sting of each mark blooming across her skin, the hot press of his mouth, the satisfaction of being marked all over, a proof of ownership that goes even deeper than a Command Seal.
Her voice rises sweetly with each new bite, each new bruise, each new scratch, sounding more and more blissfully helpless with each passing second. ]
Don't... don't tease me like that, don't make me wait, Oberon... ah, you're so mean, you're so...!
[ Or so she says, anyway. But it's transparently clear just how much she wants it. Everything from the tone of her pleading voice to the way her legs twitch and shake with each new mark - to how slick and needy she is and how eagerly her hips arch up into his mouth - betrays her and the noise that leaves her mouth, somewhere between a moan and a choked sob, is nothing short of obscene. ]
Mm...! Ah, like that, just like that, please, Oberon...