The sensation of her dried lips were unparalleled. It was the perfect sign that he was unappeasable.
She didn't merely want the physical portion of him, but everything else that he was composed of— his emotions, his mentality, bonding with him spiritually.
She could read chapters upon chapters, but it was entirely different when she wrote them with her lover. He had the pen to write, she had the page to spread. Ink stained the satin sheets, every word and chapter is artistically recorded.
She couldn't get enough of him, his literary devices; his metaphors, description, imagery, repetition. He was the author she favored.
She writes those
words to him on his skin
ticklish, dirty depictions
pretty, wet wanderings.
Literature.
She progresses across the landscape of his skin with soft kisses. The perfume of something garden-fresh, something well harvested. She's mapped everything out with the sensations of her tongue. The valley of his neck, the plain of his chest, the hills of his muscles, the terrain of his shoulders.
His cravings and needs, hidden in the discrete paths— those of which only she has walked on.
Those kisses. She doesn't only feed him kisses, but feeds him the softest, most affectionate words she can think of.
He deserved to be loved by the way she loved.
This was her first coherent statement after he ate her out.
"We need another round."
She lays out her starlight-toned thighs over his verdant ones. Her knees dent the mattress. One hand splays across a pillow, another rests on his chest.
"Do I have your permission to continue?" Raven asks.
"Yes, you do," Garfield answers. "You're okay?"
"Mhm. Damn, I just wanna have sex with you."
He draws in a breath as she seats on his mass exceedingly slow. She feels herself go down on him; but that of course came with the darkness developing in his eyes. The lust flushing his cheeks. The mindless caress of her body.
Raven rolls her hips steadily, watching his face crease in gratification. Her flexible, saturated extent houses his strong, sensitive phallus. The way she enveloped around him and secured him so well frenzied his animal senses.
Raven orients a smooth, but firm grasp around his neck with her hand. She rotates her hips, valuing every unit of time. She observes the tousle of his jade mane, the furrow of his eyebrows.
Her wet, soft texture was the instrument of satisfaction. She matched his propensity, mastered his pleasure, and intensified his intensity.
"Rae—Raven, oh, God."
That was his sinful prayer; his tone of voice went in and out so perfectly, Raven needed it to repeat again.
"It's getting to you, isn't it?" Raven questions, even though she knows the answer herself.
Garfield's pelvis contracts, and even though he tries to suppress it, another sound leaks through his lips. The pleasure tattooed across his face was clear-cut.
Garfield was spellbound by Raven's sexual, yet magical capacities. She was purple, and waning moonlight; decorated with faint mantras and dark hexes. The spasms of delight rippled through her body, the arch in her back, the gentle pants leaving her mouth in slow motion.
Stretching, sticky, swollen.
God, and the fact that she was fucking him with slow, neat, and deep rocks. It was certainly maddening.
"Gar," She uses the same hand that's caressing his neck, and lifts his face to hers. She instructs.
"Tell me that you're feeling it."
His mouth is slightly open, but nothing comes out.
Raven kisses the knuckles of his thick-jagged scarred hands. Her hands slip inside of his momentarily, then find another place on his body.
She angles over to pepper kisses on his neck, those of which unravel into intricate nibbles and sucks.
Fragrant and debaucherous.
She whispers tenderly, nibbling his ear.
"Stop fighting it, it's okay."
Raven's lips find that rich, but hungry flavor as she connects her lips with his. Garfield's lips returned darkness and charms. She's locking him in her abyss.
A sweet sinner and a shape shifting dynasty.
Raven speaks with faded syllables.
"You've gotta let it all out. What you feel, how I'm making you feel. You have to remember that we're the same. We both have inner creatures that have to be nurtured and cared for... and they also need a release."
He drags his nails on her skin, drawing in pink stripes. The loving sting made her slip out of dominance for as close as a millisecond.
It was like he wanted revenge.
Her silver fingers card through his lush hair. She keeps the rhythm, and kisses him again.
He says her name, similar to a sacred confession.
"Raven."
"I love how you say my name," She smiled softly at him. "Say it again…"
Her beast entertains with his demon to perfection. The fear of feeling too much, or not feeling enough. The danger of loving too little, or loving too wide.
And that delicate, elusive line where their complex biology, psychology, and physiology; align perfectly.
"Raven, I can't even think. You're so— Rae."
"We're almost there, just a little more,"
There she is, the potent sweetener slowly seeping onto him. The pressure builds in Garfield's hips; and his breathing feels like how someone would feel while running in the cold. Painful enough to be refreshing.
Raven holds him closer, whispering something private against his mouth. His breath in short bursts, her thighs turning to steel and ready to melt. He felt it increasing, the sensation, the one of ice cubes running down his spine.
"Finish."
She demands, following several more of her bewitching hip rolls, she extracts it from him.
It felt like changing fresh linen, spring cleaning, finding money in unexpected places, or a morning stretch.
Raven husks, bringing Garfield in for another kiss. He caresses her lower back, and paints his touch across the apex of her thighs.
"Your emotions are all over the place." Raven utters temderly, pecking his temple.
His eyes were lidded halfway, and he's too mesmerized to speak.
"That was rough. You got me good, Rae."
Raven pants, trying to speak once more.
Splintered from such raw erosity.
Dented lips from biting back sounds that threatened to escape their lips. Deeply drenched and desires devoured. Naked and bare, sugary and tethered.
All things animalistic and demonic were brought to the surface, and had to focus back to the center.
They were the "kiss you at the sun rises" kind of lover, and the "make love to you when the sun sets" kind of lover.
With beautifully written lines, the ink spilled.
with love,
Dee.