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ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴇ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ℓσνє ᴀɴᴅ 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢 ɪs ғʟɪᴍsɪᴇʀ ᴛʜᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ sɪʟᴋ ᴡᴇ ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ 「ᴘᴏᴛᴇɴᴛɪᴀʟʟʏ ɴsғᴡ」|| ƒᴇʀᴀʟ x ᴘᴀssɪᴏɴ
- Thread starter ƒeral
- Start date
Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
"I saved you from the cold and gripping fate of death,
now you are to be forever mine.
I will claim and free this world.
Stay by my side,
and you and I can obliviate this reality
and create anew."
That they did.
Much of Luetta Dalae's past was unknown. Where she came from, her family, and even where her thirst for misery came from remained a puzzle to most. However, most were correct in assumed that the woman once without presence was an orphan, but many would argue she had to be a demon who crawled their way up straight from the pits of hell. No matter the case, Luetta would be the one who had the world looking as nations crumbled under her wrath.
It happened nearly five years ago, and while it appeared to be out of the blue, Luetta had been planning since a young age the fall of each nation. By the time her wild scale attack rolled out, it was seamless. With the power of a dragon on her side, she attacked the blind-sighted nations with fire and what appeared to be an endless army of the undead. Luetta had mastered necromancy, and with the gift of sharing the power of her dragon, she could outnumber the living with the dead. They stood no chance against Luetta's wrath and the might of her dragon. Those who still lived under the control of Luetta called her many things. The uncreative but honest name of Lady Death was one, but most now saw her as the Queen of Oblivion.
With her dragon by her side, she got to experience the ultimate high as walls crumbled and death littered the streets. The planning, the thrill, the pleasure... it all became too much, win after win... she would find herself in his arms every night after, quickly cementing a relationship and dynamic between the pair. Overwhelmed with sadistic glee that had her crawling at her skin. It left her both unhinged yet overwhelmed. With each win, she found herself in need of balancing. The high and control was too much for the woman, and she found her answer by becoming delightfully weak in his arms. As a cold ruler, it was in his conviction to claim her, in the ability to look up upon someone in a world that bowed to her, and a chance to put her sadistic cravings to the side to experience a taste of the masochism, did she find a reward and a warmth untouched by her icy bitterness. However, at the end of the day, she saw him as a tool. He was to help her personally and in battle, all towards the goal of etching her mark on this shaken world.
Well, over the last few years, she needed her dragon less and less. The highs that came with battle slowed, as most major battles already won, and Luetta had new fascinations; soul and cosmic magic. Alternative ways to tap into great power beyond her own and his. Could her new studies replace the might of a dragon? Not exactly, but she would continue to need him less actively. Who knew what her progress would unlock, but instead of mass murder and destruction, her time and energy went towards harvesting souls; a task where she didn't need to call upon the might or wisdom of her dragon.
While productive, it made Luetta's life dull. At times, she would try to feel her past excitement by personally setting a few fires or personally slaughtering prisoners, but it wasn't the same. With most nations scared to even breathe her direction, she already had almost everyone at her mercy, but that wasn't enough for Luetta. She not only wanted to reach out beyond the seas, but she had her eye on the sky and sea. - A crazy plan indeed.
[Luetta's Fortress]
"All shall fall into my oblivion."
Many would go days, if not weeks, at a time without seeing her, and any stated concerns from her servants and guards were brushed to the side. It was as if she was losing her own dark soul in the process, as her personal touch and sparks now gone. The deeper she went, the more lost yet powerful she'd become.
The dragon had warned to give more attention and gratitude where it was due, but she was without her motivation to do so. Nations groveled in her presence, the days of war were over besides pitiful attacks. She would call when she needed his strength or his control, but those days were far and few now. Now out of touch to even what made her spark. Now numb, was there any reviving her fire?
She would pay a steep price for her ignorance despite her breakthroughs. The dragon who had paved her path to ultimate victory had gone missing. While apathetic most days, the thought of him slipping through her fingers left her sour. It was the first time she felt the spark of emotion in some time.
The nerve.
Was he trying to prove some point?
Was he trying to make her worry?
It mattered not, this world was to be hers, and as long as his golden markings remained on her flesh, he was hers... Or was it actually the other way around? Depended on who was asked.
"Your Majesty," a wraith veiled in the deepest black hissed to the self-proclaimed Queen as she made her way down one of the echoing halls. "We harvested hundreds more souls in your name. They await you in your legion's crypt."
Behind the fortress rested the heart of the necromancer's power. A sprawling multi-floored crypt was built with both slaves and magic. It held a vast amount of undead soldiers and buzzed with rich and lively souls ready to be used to the necromancer's will. Many crypts were hidden about, purposely built in quiet around the outskirts of nations, and that was exactly how Lunette played her part in conquering.
"Very good," the woman's tone flat and her face blank. "Once I find my dragon, I will be able to take rightful claim the skies and seas." Finally, she needed him yet again. The thought of her expansion managed to get a sly smile on her face, but not even the ghastly creatures of the underworld knew what that maddened woman meant, but no one could or would stop her.
After speaking about him, she tilted her head to the side in wonder. She had waited for guilt or desire to consume him, but it hadn't come yet. Was she expected to search for him? Call out to him? Did he not want to savor her twisted victories? They were both waiting for each other to see sense they would not see.
Luetta would spend her time locked away in her study. Dressed in her dark blue dress, her tired eyes continued to draw her own constellations, trying to decode the path of starlight. There was no slowing down as she had plans for the next full moon that was nearly a week away. If theories held true, the rise of mana that night would be crucial to her plans. If she could harass a dragon, couldn't she also take the moon to claim the sun and sea?
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OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
My beloved, don't you see?
You and I, we are perfection incarnate.
Your ambitions, your dreams, your hopes…
I have borne you aloft upon my wings until even the sky trembles before your dominion.
You ask, and I deliver.
And of you, I have asked so little.
But make no mistake, my love.
If you do not give me that which I ask, I shall take it from you.
Everything that we have built, I shall return it to ashes and cinders.
Everything that you love, I shall sunder from you.
Your glory, your power, your pride, I shall strip from you anything and everything until only my love remains.
You and I, we are perfection incarnate.
Your ambitions, your dreams, your hopes…
I have borne you aloft upon my wings until even the sky trembles before your dominion.
You ask, and I deliver.
And of you, I have asked so little.
But make no mistake, my love.
If you do not give me that which I ask, I shall take it from you.
Everything that we have built, I shall return it to ashes and cinders.
Everything that you love, I shall sunder from you.
Your glory, your power, your pride, I shall strip from you anything and everything until only my love remains.
Zolris. Or, in his tongue, Zol-risss. His name, much like everything else about him, carried meaning. Devotion. That was his namesake. Something he neither understood nor cared for through nearly the entirety of his long-lived life.
He had been…careless in his arrogance. As the living embodiment of the most flawless Black, he had soared at the very forefront of the Great Draconic War, a decades long struggle that led to the near eradication of his kind. He had killed. Maimed and ripped and burnt kin after kin until their blood drenched his polished obsidian scales, howled his glory and triumph into the midnight sky, terrifying dragons and all the lesser races alike. And thus, when he laid there, dying, when his lids became heavy and when the world grew hazier and hazier, he could not understand death. Could not comprehend failure. Could only swallow down the bitter bile threatening to choke him as he struggled to draw breath. And then there was her.
Light. That was all he could remember, with how blurry his vision had became by that point. A human, with the most radiant soul he had ever laid eyes upon. Dragons were, at their core, creatures of magic, and never did perceive the world the exact same way as humans did. He perceived her, her puny magic. Her hunger. And he gave freely for more time. For salvation. Anything to be freed from the cold talons of gripping death.
And in time, he learned the meaning of his namesake. Learned what it meant to be called Zolris - or Zol, as she liked to call him. And all was good. She hungered, and he was content to indulge her hunger. She warred, and he warred with her. She wanted power, and he granted her the same. When she rose high, he admired her resplendence. And when she faltered, when she sought refuge from the heavy burden of weaving machinations day-in and day-out, he embraced her. No…more than that, he unwound her. Pain. Pleasure. She was such a greedy woman, always wanting to imbibe all the flavors in excess. Always wanted to drown in his control, in his dominion over her, to surrender every piece of her flesh and soul to his claws and will, to burn beneath his scorching breath and bear the proofs of his passion. And he…he loved all of it as much as her and more.
Loved her, perhaps.
And that was just the thing. Magic did not love, at least, not the way humans understood that term. Magic only knew how to give, and how to take. Magic only knew to build, and how to erase. Magic was the most lethal weapon and the most sturdy bulwark. Magic was each and every extreme, and dragons were the personification of magic after all. He loved her enough to break her.
He had been…careless in his arrogance. As the living embodiment of the most flawless Black, he had soared at the very forefront of the Great Draconic War, a decades long struggle that led to the near eradication of his kind. He had killed. Maimed and ripped and burnt kin after kin until their blood drenched his polished obsidian scales, howled his glory and triumph into the midnight sky, terrifying dragons and all the lesser races alike. And thus, when he laid there, dying, when his lids became heavy and when the world grew hazier and hazier, he could not understand death. Could not comprehend failure. Could only swallow down the bitter bile threatening to choke him as he struggled to draw breath. And then there was her.
Light. That was all he could remember, with how blurry his vision had became by that point. A human, with the most radiant soul he had ever laid eyes upon. Dragons were, at their core, creatures of magic, and never did perceive the world the exact same way as humans did. He perceived her, her puny magic. Her hunger. And he gave freely for more time. For salvation. Anything to be freed from the cold talons of gripping death.
And in time, he learned the meaning of his namesake. Learned what it meant to be called Zolris - or Zol, as she liked to call him. And all was good. She hungered, and he was content to indulge her hunger. She warred, and he warred with her. She wanted power, and he granted her the same. When she rose high, he admired her resplendence. And when she faltered, when she sought refuge from the heavy burden of weaving machinations day-in and day-out, he embraced her. No…more than that, he unwound her. Pain. Pleasure. She was such a greedy woman, always wanting to imbibe all the flavors in excess. Always wanted to drown in his control, in his dominion over her, to surrender every piece of her flesh and soul to his claws and will, to burn beneath his scorching breath and bear the proofs of his passion. And he…he loved all of it as much as her and more.
Loved her, perhaps.
And that was just the thing. Magic did not love, at least, not the way humans understood that term. Magic only knew how to give, and how to take. Magic only knew to build, and how to erase. Magic was the most lethal weapon and the most sturdy bulwark. Magic was each and every extreme, and dragons were the personification of magic after all. He loved her enough to break her.
There was no melodrama when he returned, when he folded his wings atop the highest peak of the fortress, and, with but a thought, resumed his favored humanoid form. All dragons were vain, and Zolris was no different. The strength of his flight-shoulders were amply reflected in his well-structured build, in the broadness of his shoulders and the clean lines he cut. Instead of his glistening scales, he donned a complexion of marble, more remarkable than any Hellenistic statues carved from the same. His hair, frosted white, aristocratically styled with just a hint of windswept. He was too perfect to be human, but passable for one unless one gazed into his eyes, a shade so piercing, so soul-rending, that any misconceptions of humanity would be instantly dispelled.
Not even a single shred of emotion disturbed the cool serenity of his gaze or his visage as he strode through the familiar halls. As if it were not him at all that had gone missing for more than three months now, enough that the season has turned and spring began to awaken the world once more. Everything was where he left it. Not a single portrait rearranged. Perhaps the only thing that had changed was him, but of that fact, nobody but him was privy to.
Given that he hadn’t bothered to conceal his presence, it came as no surprise that wraiths were already reacting to his presence, melding in and out of shadows and no doubt ferrying news of his return immediately to Luetta. Or, Queen of Oblivion, he supposed. No one really used her name anymore except him. Such a shame too, for it was quite a lovely name.
He wouldn’t wait to be summoned. But he did not barge into her Secular Chamber either. Not that he couldn’t; rather, he had some understanding of the magic that she now experimented upon, and knew that disturbing her could likely have disastrous consequences. Heh. A soft spot. Consideration. Even now… It disgusted him how he allowed her to dictate his thoughts.
He would wait for her, not by the door of her study. Not in her bedroom. Not in the halls nor the dining room. No, he settled himself comfortably into that plush golden throne, one leg crossed over his knee and his elbow resting cozily upon an armrest. His elegant digits propped up his chin and his golden eyes perceived the entire throne room. In the corner, a pile of ashes still smoldered - all that remained of a particularly daring lich that tried to dissuade him from mounting the Queen’s throne.
She would come to him, and he would greet her with a smile. That same tempered smile he always favored her with.
“My love, I have missed you. I trust you have missed me as well?” He would offer her those conciliatory words in that smooth inflection of his. Like nothing was wrong. Like he wasn’t sitting on her throne. Like that wasn’t one of her prized liches laying wasted upon the gleaming stygian floor.
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Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
Zolris absence was a big enough event, that even her ghastly creatures couldn't help but have their gossip about it. Some assumed Lunetta's cruel ways became too much for the dragon, or maybe Lunetta released him. Most saw the pair as glued to the hip until Lunetta chose isolation. So when he was spotted, Lunetta's minions entered a state of frenzy. Possibly too committed to their queen, they flooded her room to tell her of the news. It wouldn't take her long until she was pushing her way out to find him.
By the time she did, there was an audience of wraiths and spectators inside her throne room. Confused if they should be attacking what was once a friend, but his willingness to commit such a disrespectful act by finding his seat on her midnight blue throne of their queen provided mixed signals. Through the crowd, Lunette walked up with a cold glare settling on Zol as he questioned her.
Her voice then pierced the silence of her pause, "I dismiss you all! Leave!" One by one, the creatures fled into small dark portals or flew through the throne room's walls. As they left, it was revealed that one of her liches' lives was used as a piece of expression. He was really trying to press her buttons, huh?
"Oh, look who decided to come home." She let out a flat laugh. "If you missed me so, why did you leave to begin with? Were you waiting to see if I begged for you?" A cocky smile crossed her lips as she taunted him by tilting her head to the side.
"No matter the case, you are no longer permitted to leave. You should be courteous; your queen needs your aid. Finally, with your return, we can capture another great victory like we once have. Don't you want to make me happy?" Many questioned if that was even feasible, but it was seen during her massacres, and Zol had proved it as possible in her personal chambers.
Another victory where she would use his powers again, but with her victories promised the passion he admired within her. That was how their past worked, but over time, Lunetta had made it bluntly clear that she had no problem throwing him on the back-burner, and willing to selfishly take until his own powers dampened. Now riddled with even greedier than when they first crossed paths, when she did call upon his power in excess, no reward was given. Her coldness had finally reached their flames, but did she simply she need to be reignited?
She walked up to the small set of stairs that lead up to the throne and looked down at the dragon. Despite the usual blank expression on her face, the air around her was dark. heavy, and enraged; An emotion she had not felt in some time, as these days, it took a lot to make her feel. He had a way of breaking through her numbness.
She gripped the man by the shirt, pulling hard on the fabric as she lowered her head towards him, just close enough that he could feel her hot breath rolling against his face. "You leave, and come back to slay one of my little ones, and then dare to sit on my throne? Did you lose your sense of respect for your queen after your unauthorized trip?" This was not how to get Lunette's warmth, but she had turned cold before his decision to leave.
She let go of his shirt with a violent shove back. Straightening her posture, she crossed her arms under her bust and waited in expectation. "Zol, I will only tell you once; get off my throne, apologize, and tell me where you have been." She demanded, "Now."
At least how Lunetta saw it, their opposite and private past took a backseat compared to where she stood as a Queen, but she was the one who whispered sweet nothings in his ear about how they could rule this new world together, and she was the one, in the heat of it all ,that proclaimed herself as his. Apparently, she felt as if she had the power to take back such profound statements whenever she deemed fit. It wasn't that she didn't care for Zolris. They had gone through so much together, and he was the only soul she knew that wholeheartedly accepted her heinous and conflicting ways, but he was not her priority as he once was and how he desired. The mentality of "us" had turned solo.
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OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
As Zolris expected, he scarcely had time to get properly settled before Lunetta was already storming into the throne room.
So angry…
The way that laugh of hers did not reach the eyes was enough to make his lips curl. As always, he was far more perceptive to any disturbances in her energy signatures than to what she did or did not wear on her face. Although, in this case, the two were relatively aligned. Sure, she might not have been the type to furrow her brows and snarl, but the articulation of her tone told him all he needed to know. She was furious, and he loved that about her. Loved just about anything this woman was capable of except her indifference. Anger, he could work with.
“Was I gone long? I must have just lost track of time. You know how it is, mortal lifespans don’t tend to mean much to we dragons.” He shrugged even as she began to ascend the stairs, entirely unperturbed at her approach. An extremely flat lie - he had never left her side this long in the five years they had known each other, and entirely intentional too. Her fury amused him, and if baiting her was what it took, he was more than willing to play this game.
Lunette kept barreling along - ever so straight-forward, she was, and Zolris was content to just listen. To keep up that infuriating even smile of his even as she worked herself up more and more. He scented the air as she drew closer, inhaling subtly. Like electricity. Like something crackling and burnt. God her magic was exhilarating. Almost entirely subconsciously, his own aura flared to match hers. Like the roaring flame, like the smoking remains of the cities they laid to waste. Charred and smokey and utterly intoxicating to those attuned to magic.
Her display of physicality tore a small laugh from him. Because it was funny. Incredibly so. Her, small and frail even by human standards, a good head shorter than him, hauling him, a bonafide dragon, forward by the ruffles of his shirt. It was so incredibly cute that even his eyes seemed to smile, a fetching luminosity reserved only for her. “I see you have missed me after all,” he offered in turn even as her fingers dug into his shirt. “Don’t pout, love, you can certainly have it back if you like.” He didn’t move though, not even when she shoved him back so roughly.
As soon as she straightened back up, he was back to his usual nonchalance. Fingers drumming against his own knee in a devil-may-care sort of way. He was goading her, yes, but also not directly confrontational. He liked her better when she brought all of her charms to bear, but he could work with this too. If fury was what it took to shake her out of that all-consuming gray, then he would pull that from her.
“Well, here’s how I see it,” he licked his lips, letting his gaze trail intentionally down to her chest, highlighted by her crossed arms, before flickering up again to meet her eyes again. “I’m just keeping your throne warm, see? You are spending so much time in that study of yours that I’m dreadfully worried that you forgot this throne exists.” Lunette ramped up her demands, and yet he was content merely to tease. He patted his own thigh. “Am I not just an extension of your throne anyway? My Queen.” Defaulting to her preferred title now, an intentional show of his allegiance to cool the boiling point of her anger. “What am I if not just a far more comfortable version of this pretty little chair of yours?” A quiet laugh, ever one to be delighted by his own jokes, “So, come sit in my lap, Lunette. Show me how very in charge you are, hmm? Wouldn’t you rather I massage all that tension in your shoulders away while you wax eloquent about your latest conquests or would-be-conquests?”
Rule together? It had never been about ruling for him. At least, not when it came to this world. He just liked the sound of her voice, delighted in that dulcet melody, whatever words it might sing. Liked the sounds of her moans and whimpers too, and he was confident that he would pull those from her again before the sun would once more rise. She was his. Perhaps she just simply hadn't realized it yet. But no matter, his trip had proven quite the exercise in self-discovery. He would teach it to her the same as he taught her a great deal of many other things.
So angry…
The way that laugh of hers did not reach the eyes was enough to make his lips curl. As always, he was far more perceptive to any disturbances in her energy signatures than to what she did or did not wear on her face. Although, in this case, the two were relatively aligned. Sure, she might not have been the type to furrow her brows and snarl, but the articulation of her tone told him all he needed to know. She was furious, and he loved that about her. Loved just about anything this woman was capable of except her indifference. Anger, he could work with.
“Was I gone long? I must have just lost track of time. You know how it is, mortal lifespans don’t tend to mean much to we dragons.” He shrugged even as she began to ascend the stairs, entirely unperturbed at her approach. An extremely flat lie - he had never left her side this long in the five years they had known each other, and entirely intentional too. Her fury amused him, and if baiting her was what it took, he was more than willing to play this game.
Lunette kept barreling along - ever so straight-forward, she was, and Zolris was content to just listen. To keep up that infuriating even smile of his even as she worked herself up more and more. He scented the air as she drew closer, inhaling subtly. Like electricity. Like something crackling and burnt. God her magic was exhilarating. Almost entirely subconsciously, his own aura flared to match hers. Like the roaring flame, like the smoking remains of the cities they laid to waste. Charred and smokey and utterly intoxicating to those attuned to magic.
Her display of physicality tore a small laugh from him. Because it was funny. Incredibly so. Her, small and frail even by human standards, a good head shorter than him, hauling him, a bonafide dragon, forward by the ruffles of his shirt. It was so incredibly cute that even his eyes seemed to smile, a fetching luminosity reserved only for her. “I see you have missed me after all,” he offered in turn even as her fingers dug into his shirt. “Don’t pout, love, you can certainly have it back if you like.” He didn’t move though, not even when she shoved him back so roughly.
As soon as she straightened back up, he was back to his usual nonchalance. Fingers drumming against his own knee in a devil-may-care sort of way. He was goading her, yes, but also not directly confrontational. He liked her better when she brought all of her charms to bear, but he could work with this too. If fury was what it took to shake her out of that all-consuming gray, then he would pull that from her.
“Well, here’s how I see it,” he licked his lips, letting his gaze trail intentionally down to her chest, highlighted by her crossed arms, before flickering up again to meet her eyes again. “I’m just keeping your throne warm, see? You are spending so much time in that study of yours that I’m dreadfully worried that you forgot this throne exists.” Lunette ramped up her demands, and yet he was content merely to tease. He patted his own thigh. “Am I not just an extension of your throne anyway? My Queen.” Defaulting to her preferred title now, an intentional show of his allegiance to cool the boiling point of her anger. “What am I if not just a far more comfortable version of this pretty little chair of yours?” A quiet laugh, ever one to be delighted by his own jokes, “So, come sit in my lap, Lunette. Show me how very in charge you are, hmm? Wouldn’t you rather I massage all that tension in your shoulders away while you wax eloquent about your latest conquests or would-be-conquests?”
Rule together? It had never been about ruling for him. At least, not when it came to this world. He just liked the sound of her voice, delighted in that dulcet melody, whatever words it might sing. Liked the sounds of her moans and whimpers too, and he was confident that he would pull those from her again before the sun would once more rise. She was his. Perhaps she just simply hadn't realized it yet. But no matter, his trip had proven quite the exercise in self-discovery. He would teach it to her the same as he taught her a great deal of many other things.
Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
Her eyes couldn't help but roll at his excuse for being on her throne. He knew her well enough that she would not think positively of such an action. He was being stubborn, but it was that conviction, bravery, and power that attracted her. While most cowered in fear as soon as she directed her icy gaze, he would gaze right back with his own burning passion. Maybe he didn't wish to rule, but he still was the one she more-or-less promised her life with and had done so for a reason. It was meaningful for a woman that often lacked a sense of affection. Still, sust seeing him again after time away reminded her that he was the one who could start wildfires within her frigid soul.
"I know you aren't pleased with the fact that I have been consumed with my research, but it proved fruitful." Her way of saying: 'I told you so', but did it matter? Her goals were tied to power, while his was directly connected to her.
"Do you know what that means?" Time for another approach; Zol wasn't one she could easily sway with force. "Now we can act like we once have." A flicker of life finally appeared in her eyes. "The fall of the nations was just the beginning, my darling dragon. There is so much more we can take." Then with her rise, she would come to him for her fall.
Her own distorted thinking ended up luring her right in, as it was him she now needed again to fuel her wicked goals, and so she found her place on his lap but sat across it. One of her slender arms wrapped around the back of his neck while her side tucked in against his chest. Her head finding its place on his shoulder, she reached out to touch his far cheek. Her surreal touch was gentle, yet fizzling with the passive power that was buffered by him after all these years.
"Isn't that what you really miss? How we used to be?" But did she? Had she forgotten within her years of intense study?
Her nails lightly raked at his cheek as she turned his face towards her. "I want the sky. I want the sea. As if it was written in the stars, you came back at a near-perfect time. With you and the full moon coming in a week's time, it all will be mine." She couldn't help but bite her lower lip at the thought, although most of her plan was still rather abstract. With the sadistic look twisting on her face, it was evident her mind wasn't all there with her plan but was it ever?
She searched his face, leaning in with a yearning she hadn't shown in years. "You must help me. I need this, Zol." Would he ignore his Queen's needs? Was she just using him as a pawn? Was that light in her eyes for him or only for her sick desires? She then breathed directly into his ear, "I need you." Her words were honest, but she was purposely trying to tug at his heartstrings. She was well aware he had a weakness for her, and the idea of it backfiring was something she couldn't comprehend.
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OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
Of course Zolris knew Lunette wouldn’t take well to the obvious provocation. But that was precisely the point, wasn’t it? He wanted her angry, wanted to rile her up so her emotions might flare more readily. Anger was such an easy gateway into everything else, after all.
She spoke, and he listened. Such was their way. He cared not for her lust for power, her insatiable desire for ever more. It didn’t bother him, nor did it particularly entice him. But he loved the way she looked when she spoke about it. Loved that wild, near crazed look in her eyes. That fire that reminded him of home and life and all things good. “Call me that again,” he filled in between a gap, “you know I love the way ‘darling’ sounds rolling off of your tongue.” And it was true, much as his affections for her were genuine. Much as the way his own gaze brightened at the word ‘we’ and ‘used to be’.
Lunette took her rightful seat, and he relaxed against her, raising an arm to support the weight of her neck and pulling her ever closer. The way she slotted against him, like a puzzle piece that had been missing. That was enough for his eyes to soften, to behold only her. Because she was beautiful. Because she was his. Because this was where she belonged, and everything was right with the world once more.
His arm tightened behind her neck, his bicep flexing attractively against her as he moved her along his lap. Enough that it was now he who leaned down to whisper his adoring words back at her. Only, rather than picking up back where she left off, he was ever fond of reminiscence, perhaps by virtue of having indulged in it far too many times when Lunette was quick to seal herself off in her studies.
“My love, do you remember the fall of Shivos?” She would, of that he was sure. It was one of their firsts, after all. A noble city of too much gold and too much hubris, lacking the good sense necessary to forfeit as many other nations subsequently did. His fingers carded through her hair, simply admiring those luxurious strands even as he regaled her with his excellent memory. “You said the same to me then, did you not?”
You must help me. I need this. Zol.
Words that echoed in his ears. In his memories. In the flare of pride and lust as he recalled precisely what happened the last time around. All dragons craved violence and chaos to an extent, and he was no different. Took great pleasure in personally incinerating that golden city to the ground. Fire, fire everywhere, fire in her laugh and her eyes as they burned those monuments down and down.
Not just fire.
“Do you remember how we celebrated that day?” His gaze flashed with the first hint of real emotion. Those brilliant pools of gold blazing brighter and sharper, shimmering and molten. “Do you remember how I held you close, not unlike how we are currently situated, upon that unworthy mongrel’s throne?” His thumb caressed the soft of her cheek, his tone gentle as if what he spoke of was little more than bedroom talk.
“Do you remember the warmth of my body when my fire consumed that man who dared to refuse your sovereignty from the inside out?” Oh how that pathetic specimen of a man had burnt. How the other nobles screamed. Begged. He was quite sure that he shouldn’t like any of those things, but Lunette had been so vibrant then. So quick to right any perceived wrongs until he was too swept up in her to care about the world at large.
“Do you remember eviscerating each one of those parasites that had gorged themselves on the blood of the less fortunate, the sound of ice piercing through their flesh, the terror in their eyes as they finally realized their error?” He was getting rather worked up over this, something she would doubtless notice, with the way she was perched in his lap and all. Something he did not hide from her whatsoever. “Do you remember what you told me then?”
I need you, Zol.
Right there, on that throne. As fire burnt and ice melted and death and destruction thrummed. As he plunged into her at her request, too absorbed in her resplendence to pay much attention to the fleeing humans that never quite made it out of the palace steps. But of course, that was not all they did that day.
From her high, she always craved an equal but opposite reaction. Sex alone was never enough to sate her appetite. He knew this well, and so it was with full intent when he roughened his voice entirely on purpose, flexed his fingers burrowed into her hair and gripped.
“Shall I remind you what taking Shivos felt like? To wet your appetite, my love, for our conquests of these seas and skies you speak of.”
The gold of his eyes cajored. Mesmerized.
Heartstrings? Heh. He supposed it wouldn’t be entirely wrong to compare his magic core that palpated in his chest to a heart. Perhaps that was the only way a human could understand who or what he was. Not the same, of course. Perhaps she would have a chance to learn of the differences sometimes in the near or not so near future.
She spoke, and he listened. Such was their way. He cared not for her lust for power, her insatiable desire for ever more. It didn’t bother him, nor did it particularly entice him. But he loved the way she looked when she spoke about it. Loved that wild, near crazed look in her eyes. That fire that reminded him of home and life and all things good. “Call me that again,” he filled in between a gap, “you know I love the way ‘darling’ sounds rolling off of your tongue.” And it was true, much as his affections for her were genuine. Much as the way his own gaze brightened at the word ‘we’ and ‘used to be’.
Lunette took her rightful seat, and he relaxed against her, raising an arm to support the weight of her neck and pulling her ever closer. The way she slotted against him, like a puzzle piece that had been missing. That was enough for his eyes to soften, to behold only her. Because she was beautiful. Because she was his. Because this was where she belonged, and everything was right with the world once more.
His arm tightened behind her neck, his bicep flexing attractively against her as he moved her along his lap. Enough that it was now he who leaned down to whisper his adoring words back at her. Only, rather than picking up back where she left off, he was ever fond of reminiscence, perhaps by virtue of having indulged in it far too many times when Lunette was quick to seal herself off in her studies.
“My love, do you remember the fall of Shivos?” She would, of that he was sure. It was one of their firsts, after all. A noble city of too much gold and too much hubris, lacking the good sense necessary to forfeit as many other nations subsequently did. His fingers carded through her hair, simply admiring those luxurious strands even as he regaled her with his excellent memory. “You said the same to me then, did you not?”
You must help me. I need this. Zol.
Words that echoed in his ears. In his memories. In the flare of pride and lust as he recalled precisely what happened the last time around. All dragons craved violence and chaos to an extent, and he was no different. Took great pleasure in personally incinerating that golden city to the ground. Fire, fire everywhere, fire in her laugh and her eyes as they burned those monuments down and down.
Not just fire.
“Do you remember how we celebrated that day?” His gaze flashed with the first hint of real emotion. Those brilliant pools of gold blazing brighter and sharper, shimmering and molten. “Do you remember how I held you close, not unlike how we are currently situated, upon that unworthy mongrel’s throne?” His thumb caressed the soft of her cheek, his tone gentle as if what he spoke of was little more than bedroom talk.
“Do you remember the warmth of my body when my fire consumed that man who dared to refuse your sovereignty from the inside out?” Oh how that pathetic specimen of a man had burnt. How the other nobles screamed. Begged. He was quite sure that he shouldn’t like any of those things, but Lunette had been so vibrant then. So quick to right any perceived wrongs until he was too swept up in her to care about the world at large.
“Do you remember eviscerating each one of those parasites that had gorged themselves on the blood of the less fortunate, the sound of ice piercing through their flesh, the terror in their eyes as they finally realized their error?” He was getting rather worked up over this, something she would doubtless notice, with the way she was perched in his lap and all. Something he did not hide from her whatsoever. “Do you remember what you told me then?”
I need you, Zol.
Right there, on that throne. As fire burnt and ice melted and death and destruction thrummed. As he plunged into her at her request, too absorbed in her resplendence to pay much attention to the fleeing humans that never quite made it out of the palace steps. But of course, that was not all they did that day.
From her high, she always craved an equal but opposite reaction. Sex alone was never enough to sate her appetite. He knew this well, and so it was with full intent when he roughened his voice entirely on purpose, flexed his fingers burrowed into her hair and gripped.
“Shall I remind you what taking Shivos felt like? To wet your appetite, my love, for our conquests of these seas and skies you speak of.”
The gold of his eyes cajored. Mesmerized.
Heartstrings? Heh. He supposed it wouldn’t be entirely wrong to compare his magic core that palpated in his chest to a heart. Perhaps that was the only way a human could understand who or what he was. Not the same, of course. Perhaps she would have a chance to learn of the differences sometimes in the near or not so near future.
Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
They all screamed, begged, and cried in misery and in fear of their power together. The taste of victory was all too sweet... and intoxicating. So much so, they couldn't hold themselves back and ended up indulging in each other right there and then amidst trails of blood and under clouds of smoke. It was those reality-shattering highs that Lunetta found it impossible to endure alone. Wild, raw, and burning, she turned to Zol, who was there to help pull it out of her system with the exchange of her surrender.
Oh, those days were something else. Surely, some of her favorite memories. Shivos had bowed to them, and it was one of the rare moments the necromancer felt alive.
With her field of magic and her obsession to drag the world into oblivion, Lunetta constantly surrounded herself with the dullness of death. The more lost she became on her sick mission, the harder it became to start fires within her. It had played a part in what drove a wedge between the pair. With more power, the colder she grew, but there were still sparks of their passionate past within her. A small fire that remained within her that he had a way to fame, would it still kindle if she did get the ultimate power she lusted for? For now, her inner light was right there in front of him; glimmering in her cold eyes as she reflected back on Shivos.
Lost in memories like a perfect daydream, she was pulled back to the present with a pull of her dark locks. While she should be mad at him, her fixation was also her weakness, and he already hit a soft spot. He brought forth temptation that being alone in her ghastly fortress had snuffed out. Now she was feeling rather greedy.
"That is no small feat. Do you still have it in you, darling?" She looked deep into his eyes, and her lips curled into a grin. "I should make sure you haven't grown weak in our time apart. Now that would be a real shame." As a woman who chased power, she was known to hate weakness, yet she didn't seem to mind showing some of her own to experience a taste of his. However, if she ever deemed the dragon weak, surely she would lose interest. If anything, she was requesting her greedy wishes. No one else in this world that she was aware of would dare to do the things he had.
The stiffness below did not go unnoticed, and she had her own ache between her thighs. She pressed the curve of her rear down into his lap, taunting his own temptations for the woman who used to scream in utter bliss for him. Leaning in towards the pull, her soft lips plant a trail of kisses up towards his ear. The necromancer then whispered a challenge cloaked as a question into his ear, "Can you bring me back to life, Zol?" She still breathed, but currently, only he could revive her dulling flames.
She moved up just a bit more, this time so they could be face to face. Her gazed locked with his, and her head tilted ever-so slightly to the side. Perfectly aligned, her lips hovering only a mere inch or two over his. As if frozen in time, seconds away from a kiss, she waited to hear or see his conviction before letting him have a taste.
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OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
Weak?
That she would even suspect such a thing of Zolris wounded him so. That detestable word made him narrow his eyes, his irises sharpening into little more than slits. In that moment, his temper flared, echoing in the cutting seethe of his latent magic that would prickle her lips even as she sought to soothe. Or perhaps she merely meant to inflame him more.
Either way, Lunette got what she wanted - he answered her inquiry not with words, but with a resounding growl that vented his offense. A rough, tempestuous sound that echoed and reverberated off of the walls, jarring in juxtaposition with the human guise he wore. It appeared only one of them had forgotten the steps to this particular waltz, and a dragon never forgets.
She hovered just out of reach, daring him perhaps to capture those delectable lips of hers. But no, that was not what he wanted, not yet. When it came to the sinful pleasures they shared, Zolris never played by Lunette’s rules, and he would gladly remind her of the same.
“You forget yourself, Lunette.” His lips parted in a half-smile, half-snarl, peeling back enough to show off those sharp canines of his. Lunette was in control, she always was - except when it came to this. When she chose to surrender to him the reins, he demanded nothing less than her complete and total capitulation. That didn’t mean she couldn’t fight, she liked those games, and he was more than content to indulge. But, in this arena, the unwritten agreement was that she would concede, even if he had to tear it from her.
And perhaps, that was just it. Perhaps she was in one of those moods where she wanted him to show a little teeth. At least, that was certainly how Zolris chose to interpret it. Without even a gratuitous pause, his free hand shot up to seize around her throat, squeezing. He could have applied precision merely to cut off her airways, but chose not too. His grip was harsh and uncompromising, strangling airways and blood vessels alike as he forcefully stole a breath from her. Another. His eyes were colder than any ice might dream of as he peered deep into hers, into that beautiful shade he loved. Forced her to stare into his, into the obsessive intensity swirling within.
“‘Can I’ is the wrong question, love.” His lips curved higher, resplendent in his clear enjoyment of the sadism he inflicted. “I think you meant to ask ‘will I.’” Only then did he relent, loosening his grip long enough for her to pull in some much needed oxygen. Just a single inhale though, before he brought her close to him with that hand still locked in her hair. Sealing her lips now with his. A kiss that was not really a kiss, no. There was no tenderness in this. No romance. He kissed the same way he razed cities - blazing and forceful and deadset upon devouring. He was the fire that consumed Shivos, only she was that doomed city this time around. The sole focus of his savage desires. She could pry at his hand. She could beat at his chest. She could match her magic to his and it wouldn't matter. He was the beast of legends, the ballads of bards and wildest dreams of all mortal-kind, and it was about goddamn time she remembered that. About goddamn time he reminded her of that.
He didn’t wait for any kind of acquiescence, simply forced his way into her mouth, his tongue browbeating hers into submission. And if she fought him, his fingers just squeezed again. An unrelenting dance, cutting off her air again and again until her world would swim. Tinged with specks the colors of his scales, perhaps.
It would only be when she was completely and utterly out of breath that he pulled back, licking at his own lips with a self-satisfied smirk. “Let’s try that again. Offer me your prayers for that which you crave. Nicely, this time.” Perhaps humans no longer worshiped dragons, but that didn’t mean dragons forgot what it meant to be worshiped, to be literal gods in the eyes of the women they desired.
That she would even suspect such a thing of Zolris wounded him so. That detestable word made him narrow his eyes, his irises sharpening into little more than slits. In that moment, his temper flared, echoing in the cutting seethe of his latent magic that would prickle her lips even as she sought to soothe. Or perhaps she merely meant to inflame him more.
Either way, Lunette got what she wanted - he answered her inquiry not with words, but with a resounding growl that vented his offense. A rough, tempestuous sound that echoed and reverberated off of the walls, jarring in juxtaposition with the human guise he wore. It appeared only one of them had forgotten the steps to this particular waltz, and a dragon never forgets.
She hovered just out of reach, daring him perhaps to capture those delectable lips of hers. But no, that was not what he wanted, not yet. When it came to the sinful pleasures they shared, Zolris never played by Lunette’s rules, and he would gladly remind her of the same.
“You forget yourself, Lunette.” His lips parted in a half-smile, half-snarl, peeling back enough to show off those sharp canines of his. Lunette was in control, she always was - except when it came to this. When she chose to surrender to him the reins, he demanded nothing less than her complete and total capitulation. That didn’t mean she couldn’t fight, she liked those games, and he was more than content to indulge. But, in this arena, the unwritten agreement was that she would concede, even if he had to tear it from her.
And perhaps, that was just it. Perhaps she was in one of those moods where she wanted him to show a little teeth. At least, that was certainly how Zolris chose to interpret it. Without even a gratuitous pause, his free hand shot up to seize around her throat, squeezing. He could have applied precision merely to cut off her airways, but chose not too. His grip was harsh and uncompromising, strangling airways and blood vessels alike as he forcefully stole a breath from her. Another. His eyes were colder than any ice might dream of as he peered deep into hers, into that beautiful shade he loved. Forced her to stare into his, into the obsessive intensity swirling within.
“‘Can I’ is the wrong question, love.” His lips curved higher, resplendent in his clear enjoyment of the sadism he inflicted. “I think you meant to ask ‘will I.’” Only then did he relent, loosening his grip long enough for her to pull in some much needed oxygen. Just a single inhale though, before he brought her close to him with that hand still locked in her hair. Sealing her lips now with his. A kiss that was not really a kiss, no. There was no tenderness in this. No romance. He kissed the same way he razed cities - blazing and forceful and deadset upon devouring. He was the fire that consumed Shivos, only she was that doomed city this time around. The sole focus of his savage desires. She could pry at his hand. She could beat at his chest. She could match her magic to his and it wouldn't matter. He was the beast of legends, the ballads of bards and wildest dreams of all mortal-kind, and it was about goddamn time she remembered that. About goddamn time he reminded her of that.
He didn’t wait for any kind of acquiescence, simply forced his way into her mouth, his tongue browbeating hers into submission. And if she fought him, his fingers just squeezed again. An unrelenting dance, cutting off her air again and again until her world would swim. Tinged with specks the colors of his scales, perhaps.
It would only be when she was completely and utterly out of breath that he pulled back, licking at his own lips with a self-satisfied smirk. “Let’s try that again. Offer me your prayers for that which you crave. Nicely, this time.” Perhaps humans no longer worshiped dragons, but that didn’t mean dragons forgot what it meant to be worshiped, to be literal gods in the eyes of the women they desired.
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Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
His growl, not only filled up the echoing throne room, but it resounded within her as well. She took a deep inhale as if she was soaking in the tension he stirred in the room, but it would be her last breath until he deemed it. Grabbed by her throat, her eyes went wide; not in distress nor terror, but with thrill.
He read her right. While not the overly affectionate type, her methods of seduction still had some of her bitterness attached. She loved ruffling his
Had distance made the heart grow fonder?
Was she just in need of a fix?
Lunetta wasn't quite sure herself, but after her long isolation and their time apart, his commanding hold felt almost as invigorating as the first time he put his possessive hands on her.
Her eyelids fell half shut as his fingers around her throat squeezed. Her sadistic thoughts that had gotten her worked up, but it was her masochism that brought her pleasure. After having so many bow to her, it always floored her to fall in the role of the opposite. Only with him would surely be willing to show such vulnerability, as she not only did she trusted Zol and saw him worthy, but he was the one to help unlock this side of herself.
Zol...
His grip loosened slightly, and as she tried to fill her lungs with needed air, he sealed his words with a hungry kiss. He kissed her not with heart, but the very fire that she was so pulled in by. Her head quickly turned light not only from the lack of oxygen, but the fever of his kiss. Her small body quivered on her lap as a midnight blue hue traced her body as their tongues clashed and danced. Her signature shade was a tad darker than before but even more potent due to her experiments, and that very mana sparked against his form, Each small jolt of wild magic provided a faint kiss of a buzz similar to electricity. - There was no doubt that she was already waking.
The need for a breath became too much; she was drowning in his kiss. Her head attempted to jerk back as her body twisted and turned, she released her hold on him to tug at his arm as the need became too much. The darkness of unconsciousness threatened to steal her away from him, but just before that happened, he broke the kiss and she took in a breath.
Panting softly while still caught in his grip and the afterglow of the kiss, she hung in a moment of silence as he demanded a correction. She wanted to give in, but some of their dust was still unsettled.
"No, you owe me."
Did he? In the long term, he sure didn't. She used him for his power, and she cut herself off to lose herself in magic instead of him. Still, Lunetta was looking at the short term; he left her. Time and the fact he did leave helped to make this moment possible, but he did earn her ire.
"Why... I should pray... to you after such..." She took a deeper breath to make up for her shallow intake. "...Treason?" - Apparently, she really missed him.
While her statements dared to opposed him, Lunetta often worked backwards. Yes, she was still upset with him, but it was also a way to bring out his fervor that she adored. In the heat of it all, while he caused her world to tremble, he stood above all. When completely at his whim, he was her god, but with time apart, it weakened her obscure yet favored view of him. The foundation remained untouched; after all, there was a reason why he was the one who toppled cities with her, a reason why he was the first she wanted to run to when she had a new wicked plan, a reason why he was her only lover, and a reason why he would let him fuck her until she shattered.
Was this love?
Queen Oblivion was the last person one should ask.
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
How cute.
Spitting out such angry words even whilst panting, even whilst attempting to refuel those very mortal lungs of hers with much needed air. Zolris had taken her to the very edge of unconsciousness, and yet, Lunette was still resisting him. But then again, he expected this from her.
But what did she expect from him? Did she expect those gentled fingers tracing along her throat, imbued with a tenderness that entirely belied his earlier aggression? What about the ways the pads of his fingers lingered upon her jugular, measuring each irregular heartbeat that thundered even whilst her body attempted to re-regulate itself? His hand hovered at her throat even as she spoke, caressing her almost lovingly. Up, and down, tracing along either sides of her throat, pressing with only enough pressure to ensure she felt his touch. And yet, those fanned fingers were ever threatening. He could take her air again in the blink of an eye, and that was her reality that she would do well to remember.
He didn’t though, instead, he merely smiled that infuriatingly calm smile of his, catching her lips in yet another kiss. A more temperate kiss this time around, inviting her to dance with his tongue. Like he was apologizing…or was he just setting her up? That was the thing about Zolris. Even after the years they spent together, he never confined himself to one particular pattern. Lunette could goad, could plead, could attempt any number of things, but he remained ever unpredictable. Always took things at his own tempo. Always made her dance to his beat.
His other hand was equally gentle as he carded through her hair, down to trace the sweeping lines of her shoulder and upper-arm. A kiss that went on and on, releasing her from his hold only to chase her lips again. Passionate. Romantic. Every emotion he refused to demonstrate in the previous one. Did he feel those emotions? Could dragons even feel such emotions? Well, she wouldn’t know, would she.
An abrupt change in cadence that changed again. Those fingers tracing along her collarbones now seared - not enough to burn, not her, anyway. She would feel heat only a smidgen too hot as those delicate laces of hers turned to ashes beneath his fingertips. His control, as always, was impeccable as his fire consumed only about every other woven pattern or so, enough to weaken the dress structurally, enough to expose inch after inch of her to his hungry gaze in between kisses. Over her shoulders, down the valley of her breasts, until that blue-black dress was a patchwork of half-scorched remains.
Zolris grinned.
“Because you want me.” His fingers fanned into a grip and he wrenched, ripping that mangled dress at her collarbones such that they only barely clung to her curves, barely preserving her modesty in a way that served only to tempt. “Because you need me.” His other hand tightened around her throat, cutting off a single inhale before being replaced by an ethereal black, a collar in his signature shade manifesting around her vulnerable neck. Not tight enough to be uncomfortable, but molded to her neck in such a way that she would not soon forget its existence. “Because you desire me.” He drew his hand away - shimmering silvery chains followed his course. A luminosity mirrored between their lips.
Those golden eyes appraised each newly exposed inch, drinking in the sight of her with avarice befitting his heritage. “Because you, my Queen--” he yanked on that leash, upsetting her balance entirely and causing her to collide into his solid front. Causing his next words to be whispered directly against her ear, low, husky, smug as can be. “--crave violation. Because you want me to ruin you. To remind you of your fragile mortality. To shatter that mask of yours until you can barely remember your own name. Until every sound spilling out of your pretty lips is a keening moan or a whimper of my name.”
A hand palmed her rear, pushing her hard into the hardness of him, and a growl laced his next words. “So beg, my beautiful Lunette. Beg me to give you the fucking you deserve, or I will leave you alone on this throne until morning comes.” He wasn't bluffing.
Spitting out such angry words even whilst panting, even whilst attempting to refuel those very mortal lungs of hers with much needed air. Zolris had taken her to the very edge of unconsciousness, and yet, Lunette was still resisting him. But then again, he expected this from her.
But what did she expect from him? Did she expect those gentled fingers tracing along her throat, imbued with a tenderness that entirely belied his earlier aggression? What about the ways the pads of his fingers lingered upon her jugular, measuring each irregular heartbeat that thundered even whilst her body attempted to re-regulate itself? His hand hovered at her throat even as she spoke, caressing her almost lovingly. Up, and down, tracing along either sides of her throat, pressing with only enough pressure to ensure she felt his touch. And yet, those fanned fingers were ever threatening. He could take her air again in the blink of an eye, and that was her reality that she would do well to remember.
He didn’t though, instead, he merely smiled that infuriatingly calm smile of his, catching her lips in yet another kiss. A more temperate kiss this time around, inviting her to dance with his tongue. Like he was apologizing…or was he just setting her up? That was the thing about Zolris. Even after the years they spent together, he never confined himself to one particular pattern. Lunette could goad, could plead, could attempt any number of things, but he remained ever unpredictable. Always took things at his own tempo. Always made her dance to his beat.
His other hand was equally gentle as he carded through her hair, down to trace the sweeping lines of her shoulder and upper-arm. A kiss that went on and on, releasing her from his hold only to chase her lips again. Passionate. Romantic. Every emotion he refused to demonstrate in the previous one. Did he feel those emotions? Could dragons even feel such emotions? Well, she wouldn’t know, would she.
An abrupt change in cadence that changed again. Those fingers tracing along her collarbones now seared - not enough to burn, not her, anyway. She would feel heat only a smidgen too hot as those delicate laces of hers turned to ashes beneath his fingertips. His control, as always, was impeccable as his fire consumed only about every other woven pattern or so, enough to weaken the dress structurally, enough to expose inch after inch of her to his hungry gaze in between kisses. Over her shoulders, down the valley of her breasts, until that blue-black dress was a patchwork of half-scorched remains.
Zolris grinned.
“Because you want me.” His fingers fanned into a grip and he wrenched, ripping that mangled dress at her collarbones such that they only barely clung to her curves, barely preserving her modesty in a way that served only to tempt. “Because you need me.” His other hand tightened around her throat, cutting off a single inhale before being replaced by an ethereal black, a collar in his signature shade manifesting around her vulnerable neck. Not tight enough to be uncomfortable, but molded to her neck in such a way that she would not soon forget its existence. “Because you desire me.” He drew his hand away - shimmering silvery chains followed his course. A luminosity mirrored between their lips.
Those golden eyes appraised each newly exposed inch, drinking in the sight of her with avarice befitting his heritage. “Because you, my Queen--” he yanked on that leash, upsetting her balance entirely and causing her to collide into his solid front. Causing his next words to be whispered directly against her ear, low, husky, smug as can be. “--crave violation. Because you want me to ruin you. To remind you of your fragile mortality. To shatter that mask of yours until you can barely remember your own name. Until every sound spilling out of your pretty lips is a keening moan or a whimper of my name.”
A hand palmed her rear, pushing her hard into the hardness of him, and a growl laced his next words. “So beg, my beautiful Lunette. Beg me to give you the fucking you deserve, or I will leave you alone on this throne until morning comes.” He wasn't bluffing.
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Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
The way he managed to remain calm after she spoke of treason did get under her skin. Lunetta shouldn't have expected anything less from the dragon. Her achieved queenhood mattered little when it came to their impulsive desires and the love that fluttered between them. While her conquest meant the world to Lunetta and the two never perfectly saw eye to eye, nonetheless, their personal passions had no issues complementing each other. Just like Zol was there to break the queen to unlock what was under all the madness and duty. They often had a beautiful and twisted way of working out.
While she didn't get the words that she felt that she should hear, he eased her with another kiss. Less heated, but far more thought was put into this one, and Lunetta found herself following his lead once more. The butterflies he gave her had a way of adding color to her darkened world, and she could feel herself melting as their tongues now danced with grace. While her eyes slowly closed in the kiss, the longer their lips connected, the more she could see how much her heart and body yearned for him even if he deserved a good slap, but at least he was never boring. Far from.
A hum of delight slipped between their lips as he lured out more of her desire. He chased, she and sought. Her greed fell in his favor as the hints of ecstasy he provided were far too tempting to ignore.
I need this.
I need him.
I need him.
It snuffed out her anger and replaced it with a new fire. As much as she told herself to not go along with it, to hold her ground, there she was, hand now gripping the back of his head in need. He gave her a taste, and now the greedy queen wanted the whole damn package.
The new warmth to his fingertips caused her to jump a bit in place, but wasn't enough to stop her savoring the kiss. Fabric burned under his enchanted touch, and patches of skin now accented her altered attire that was barely clinging on to her. For a woman capable of so much hell, her body was slim, but still blessed with feminine curves, including a narrow waist and curvaceous hips. The queen had enough cleavage that her bust was about to spill out from her marred top, but it didn't matter to her. There was no room to be modest after all they have done together, and all the sins she had both witnessed and caused. He claimed her body years ago, and so it was his to see and touch.
He tested the strength of her impaired dress with a tug, and more seams gave away. The sound of the tear ringing in her ears.
Take me.
Her soft and full breasts freed from their confines, but her eyes remained fixed on his face. The cool lights of the throne room illuminated her face and the revealed pale skin from her tattered dress. Her lips parted to speak, but her words halted by another grip to her neck. This time, his hold wouldn't be for long. With the help of his powers, a familiar collar appeared around her neck with a leash that he held.
Zol....~
She couldn't think of anything else but him. His words were left to echo in her mind as he eliminated her other thoughts. Pulled close, his whispers were enough to make her stir on his lap; the restlessness he awoken in her was becoming too much. Her eyes fell half shut, all his words repeating in her mind as if caught under a spell, and it felt as if she was drowning in his alluring voice and powerful presence.
The ache between her thighs reached a new high when he pushed her down even further on his lap. Her instincts gnawed at her to the point she gasped. The control that had gotten her so far so quickly in life was slipping from her fingers and on to him. At this point, it was to be given or stolen.
Would he actually leave? Would he commit such treason again? Based on what she felt below her, it would pain him as well if he did so. However, Lunetta wasn't in any position to test him. It wasn't just this very moment and their pressing needs, but the thought of him leaving again in any sense of the way, especially after just getting back would upset her greatly.
"When you break me, I find that I still have a soul." Her voice was soft, breath heavy, "When you ruin me, I find paradise." Her hand on the back of his head moved to cup his cheek. "When I'm under your control, I feel alive." Her eye contact refused to break.
The fingertips of her free hand danced along the chain before she grabbed it and pulled right back towards his hand. "Take me, Zol. Use my body and give me all your pent-up energy. Conquer me like we have conquered these lands."
Her gaze broke for her eyes to look down for a moment. "... Please." As someone who constantly gave out orders, she was rusty. Her attraction towards him came naturally, but so did her position being a queen. This contradiction often flared up every so often between the pair, although, usually, he was pretty good at ironing it out.
The deep blue of her aura sparked, and more of her dress gave way. She spun her body to better face him, her knees at his side as she straddled him. "Please fuck me, Zol. I need you." That she did; the pink between her shapely already wet with desire. With another flicker of blue, her dress and her panties were nothing but ash. Completely naked, his golden markings on her back on full display, she offered herself to him.
She pushed back down on his lap, she grinded her way up with her pillowy chest tightly pressed again his. The light stimulation enough to make her quiver. "We could go to my chambers, but what better place to ruin a queen than on her throne?" The thought brought a smirk to her lips and inspired her further. "Please. claim me. Please. I want to feel how deep you can touch me again." She meant that in multiple ways, as the more he could take, the more he could own. "Please, remind me why you and only you I let violate me so. Why I am yours."
Fuck me, Zol.
Fuck me until I both forget and remember...
Please...
Fuck me until I both forget and remember...
Please...
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
Yearning.
Now, that was a desire he could understand. Lunette was an unfair woman. When she wanted his attention, she was quick to demand. And when it suited her, she was nowhere to be found. So in a way, whether or not he was a patient man, Zolris has learned patience. Which in turn meant that when it came to these games they played, he demonstrated far greater control than she could ever dream of.
She squirmed, and he gripped her rear that much harder, not to prevent her from doing the same, but simply to exert his dominance. To remind her that everything she got, she got because he was willing to give. Pleasure. Pain. A twisted cocktail of those two contrary sensations shaken into one potent mix. Yes, leaving her here would upset him as well, but not enough for him to desist should she have refused his demands. Because this has never been about sex - he could certainly relish the physical sensations as much as anyone else, but this was about power. About her surrendering the same to his unrelenting grip. He wanted to fuck her, but more than that, he wanted to possess her. Body. Mind. Soul. The avarice of a dragon demanded nothing less.
And so, it was a very good thing that Lunette decided to sing a much prettier song, to whisper her desires in that breathy tone he adored.
“Such a good girl,” he chuckled, his hand ascending higher, tracing along the dip of her spine, up along her sides, leaving no inch of her untouched. And of course, burnt more of that dress too. His touch was warm as it retraced the same path down as she continued to speak, that spark of magic almost like an mild electric current. Like a little zap, enough to electrify the senses and no more. Down, palming over the outside of her thigh, admiring the curvature of the same towards her knee. His height such that even as she knelt, they were still about eye level, with his chin slightly higher.
She was getting impatient already, something that amused him. For a woman capable of such coldness, her desires sure ramped as quickly as wild forest fires - no, more, like his fire, wanton and savage and keen. His fingers traced along the inside of her knee, up along her inner thigh. A slow, languid caress. But firm. Possessive. His digits flexed with necessary pressure as he remapped her body. As he reminded her who owned every inch of her. Higher, a quest made easier as she invoked his fire to incinerate her own apparels, an irony not lost upon him. Lingered about halfway up her inner thigh, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Patience,” he reprimanded, but tempered it with that ever-composed smile of his, as she snaked up and against him. He knew what she wanted. What she always wanted. Passion. Fire. Something to take her mind off of the rest of the world.
But he wasn’t done admiring her yet.
And so, he caught one wrist - his much larger hand easily wrapping around the slender of the same, brought it to her other, and seized that as well. Pulled her wrists up, over her head, allowing just enough bend at her elbows for comfort and no more. His hand left, but hers would stay - the same shimmering silvery chains that she had come to expect from him replacing his grip. Chains that ascended skyward, up and into the ceiling of her citadel. The visual was merely for effect though; his magic required no such anchor, but it amused him to hear the crystalline chinks from even her mild movements. They pulled, just a smidgeon, up and back, forcing her to arc and present her body to his gaze.
“Don’t worry,” he gripped her jaw, brought her lips to his, and peered deep into hers with lust befitting the situation. But cool, as well, a cold fire as he contemplated everything he wished to inflict upon her this particular day. “All in due time.” His other hand ascended the yet untouched inches of her thigh, drawing it out with deliberation. A pause, when it seemed like he might finally cup her drenched core, before he captured a different pair of lips with his. That hunger was back again this time around. His thumb dug into the tender skin beneath her chin, his fingers the same upon her cheek. Not that he expected her to pull away, but just because he could. Because it pleased him to assert his dominance at every which turn. He kissed like he was starved. Plundered her mouth with his tongue, his hand keeping her close and steady for his aggressive conquest of the same. And, when he was quite sure that he had distracted her with that kiss, he finally gave her the touch she wanted, where she wanted it. Palmed her sex and, with little warning, sunk two digits into her.
“So wet,” he broke the kiss long enough to breathe the same against her lips, his fingers twisting and thrusting deep into her. “I thought we were ruining you today, not my pants?” That hand on her jaw directed her gaze down, forcing her to watch not just his fingers sinking into her again and again, but also the way she dripped. At those translucent strands of lust coating his fingers, smearing onto the dark of his pants, an irrefutable proof of her excitement. At how much he excited her.
Another finger now, three plunging in and out, curling against her with rapacious intent, his palm grinding into that neglected little button every time he hilted. “Look how well you are taking me,” his voice beckoned, his eyes staring unabashedly at her entrance, at the way she parted for him again and again. “Look how hungry you are. Is this how Queens behaved?” A smirk, the implication obvious enough that he didn’t feel the need to spell it out. “If I parted my legs, how much do you think you’ll drip onto the throne before I’m done with you? That would be a rather fun reminder for the next time you sit here, bossing everyone around, don’t you think?”
He did just that. Parted her legs wider with his thighs, revealing a portion of that midnight blue she loved. A blue soon tarnished by her own untamed lust. He kept up that steady tempo, ramping her up. His molten gaze was ever alert though. Lunette got what he was willing to give, and only what he was willing to give. Despite the intensity with which he took her, she would not be allowed to come unless and until he so decreed.
Now, that was a desire he could understand. Lunette was an unfair woman. When she wanted his attention, she was quick to demand. And when it suited her, she was nowhere to be found. So in a way, whether or not he was a patient man, Zolris has learned patience. Which in turn meant that when it came to these games they played, he demonstrated far greater control than she could ever dream of.
She squirmed, and he gripped her rear that much harder, not to prevent her from doing the same, but simply to exert his dominance. To remind her that everything she got, she got because he was willing to give. Pleasure. Pain. A twisted cocktail of those two contrary sensations shaken into one potent mix. Yes, leaving her here would upset him as well, but not enough for him to desist should she have refused his demands. Because this has never been about sex - he could certainly relish the physical sensations as much as anyone else, but this was about power. About her surrendering the same to his unrelenting grip. He wanted to fuck her, but more than that, he wanted to possess her. Body. Mind. Soul. The avarice of a dragon demanded nothing less.
And so, it was a very good thing that Lunette decided to sing a much prettier song, to whisper her desires in that breathy tone he adored.
“Such a good girl,” he chuckled, his hand ascending higher, tracing along the dip of her spine, up along her sides, leaving no inch of her untouched. And of course, burnt more of that dress too. His touch was warm as it retraced the same path down as she continued to speak, that spark of magic almost like an mild electric current. Like a little zap, enough to electrify the senses and no more. Down, palming over the outside of her thigh, admiring the curvature of the same towards her knee. His height such that even as she knelt, they were still about eye level, with his chin slightly higher.
She was getting impatient already, something that amused him. For a woman capable of such coldness, her desires sure ramped as quickly as wild forest fires - no, more, like his fire, wanton and savage and keen. His fingers traced along the inside of her knee, up along her inner thigh. A slow, languid caress. But firm. Possessive. His digits flexed with necessary pressure as he remapped her body. As he reminded her who owned every inch of her. Higher, a quest made easier as she invoked his fire to incinerate her own apparels, an irony not lost upon him. Lingered about halfway up her inner thigh, marveling at the softness of her skin. “Patience,” he reprimanded, but tempered it with that ever-composed smile of his, as she snaked up and against him. He knew what she wanted. What she always wanted. Passion. Fire. Something to take her mind off of the rest of the world.
But he wasn’t done admiring her yet.
And so, he caught one wrist - his much larger hand easily wrapping around the slender of the same, brought it to her other, and seized that as well. Pulled her wrists up, over her head, allowing just enough bend at her elbows for comfort and no more. His hand left, but hers would stay - the same shimmering silvery chains that she had come to expect from him replacing his grip. Chains that ascended skyward, up and into the ceiling of her citadel. The visual was merely for effect though; his magic required no such anchor, but it amused him to hear the crystalline chinks from even her mild movements. They pulled, just a smidgeon, up and back, forcing her to arc and present her body to his gaze.
“Don’t worry,” he gripped her jaw, brought her lips to his, and peered deep into hers with lust befitting the situation. But cool, as well, a cold fire as he contemplated everything he wished to inflict upon her this particular day. “All in due time.” His other hand ascended the yet untouched inches of her thigh, drawing it out with deliberation. A pause, when it seemed like he might finally cup her drenched core, before he captured a different pair of lips with his. That hunger was back again this time around. His thumb dug into the tender skin beneath her chin, his fingers the same upon her cheek. Not that he expected her to pull away, but just because he could. Because it pleased him to assert his dominance at every which turn. He kissed like he was starved. Plundered her mouth with his tongue, his hand keeping her close and steady for his aggressive conquest of the same. And, when he was quite sure that he had distracted her with that kiss, he finally gave her the touch she wanted, where she wanted it. Palmed her sex and, with little warning, sunk two digits into her.
“So wet,” he broke the kiss long enough to breathe the same against her lips, his fingers twisting and thrusting deep into her. “I thought we were ruining you today, not my pants?” That hand on her jaw directed her gaze down, forcing her to watch not just his fingers sinking into her again and again, but also the way she dripped. At those translucent strands of lust coating his fingers, smearing onto the dark of his pants, an irrefutable proof of her excitement. At how much he excited her.
Another finger now, three plunging in and out, curling against her with rapacious intent, his palm grinding into that neglected little button every time he hilted. “Look how well you are taking me,” his voice beckoned, his eyes staring unabashedly at her entrance, at the way she parted for him again and again. “Look how hungry you are. Is this how Queens behaved?” A smirk, the implication obvious enough that he didn’t feel the need to spell it out. “If I parted my legs, how much do you think you’ll drip onto the throne before I’m done with you? That would be a rather fun reminder for the next time you sit here, bossing everyone around, don’t you think?”
He did just that. Parted her legs wider with his thighs, revealing a portion of that midnight blue she loved. A blue soon tarnished by her own untamed lust. He kept up that steady tempo, ramping her up. His molten gaze was ever alert though. Lunette got what he was willing to give, and only what he was willing to give. Despite the intensity with which he took her, she would not be allowed to come unless and until he so decreed.
Last edited:
Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
His praise soothed some of her disquiet; praise was a clear sign that she was on the right path to quenching her desires. His wandering and enchanted touch alone caused phantom vibrations along her soft skin. Even if Lunetta found it entertaining how many cursed her name and raised their weapons at her with pure hatred in their hearts, there was something about the contrast of being touched as a lover that exalted her. As if he read her mind, his addictive were careful to not miss any of her curves. Even if he was separated from his abilities, she felt such admirable power in even in his hands.
Impatient? He had told her to beg for it, had he not? It mattered little, beyond her words, it was clear by the signals and her heavy breath that indeed her needs were making her restless. It was another power that he had over her. Lunetta was full of fuel. Enough fuel that allowed her to battle like a warrior, could stay up for days studying and experimenting, and enough that she even found her place as a queen. All it took was a spark, and her coldness would melt away into aggression, sadism, determination, lust, or surrender, but overall passion. Sparks from him did turn her into a wildfire, much like on the days she unleashed her grizzly attacks. Once she got a taste, it was a personal high she could not resist.
Her wrists were captured, first by hands, then by chains. For such a powerful woman, she only knew little of failure and weakness. Her helplessness was taboo to her, and yet it made everything even more exciting for the twisted woman. With the pull of the chain, more of her body was exposed for him to feast his eyes on. The mounts of delicate flesh, her flat, but slightly toned core... and that wild look in her eyes, was all his.
Lunetta abruptly tugged hard against her binds; from an untrained eye, it could be read as a fit of disapproval, but this wasn't the first time she had done something like this. She savored how her binds would not give despite her force, she loved to feel the faint pain of the cuffs around her wrists as if her own vulnerability needed the stamp of her approval. Biting her lower lip, her head tipped back with her long dark locks falling with. She took a shaken breath of pleasure and closed her eyes for a moment to bask in her weakness.
I missed the feelings he brings me so much.
Her jaw was taken, and her mind spun while he pulled her in close; she was quickly becoming intoxicated. Her warm and quick breath washed over his face as he promised to eventually get all that she craved. As his hand slid towards her inner thigh, Lunetta whimpered as if pained by the wicked fires within her. She was at his mercy more than just for the chains and the need for him to stay. "I need you so badly, Zol. It hurts." While he was the one who stirred her fires, he was also the one who could put them out, just like he had done when they had taken over Shivos.
He would take his time, while once cold queen continued to unravel. "I'm yours...," she breathed before their lips met once more. This time there was even more of Lunetta's need within the kiss. She would beg by chasing his lips, wrestling his tongue, and pouring with whimpers that pled for more. Getting lost in the kiss, she felt as if she couldn't get enough of him. Was it her greed again? Probably, but he held the key to her pleasure and suffering.... but she loved knowing it. - Wasn't it just part of human nature to look for something... or someone greater than themselves? Well, at least for some, and Lunetta was one.
While lip locked, his touch would find the part of her that wept for him. His fingers would easily slip in the queen from how worked up she had become. She squirmed on his lap, even trembling as his finger sank into her depths. When the kiss broke, she came alive with a gasping moan. Her head was guided down to watch what was taking place, to see this was reality and not some fever dream. Dripping wet, she was leaving her mark on him, but she had no control, nor did she want it.
"That.... that... fe-feels so good! Pl-ease d-don't stop!" While she begging for all of him, Lunetta could enjoy his fingers undoubtedly. She loved the feeling of his touch against her smooth and tight walls. In fact, so much, she found herself slightly bouncing and rocking against his digits in unfiltered craving. He would gift her with another finger, and her volume raised. Her mouth stuck open as she spilled with heated moans.
He taunted her with her title, something that she would kill anyone else for, but when not impassioned like this. Instead of snapped back, but instead, a warm smile filled her face. She had begged to be ruined, in other words, she begged to be temporarily stripped of her title. She didn't want to act like how a queen was to behave. She wanted to free herself of all of it in order to get lost in this... in him.
Looking between her legs and around his arm, she looked at the dark blue of her throne below. Her inner walls clamp down on his fingers for a moment as the thought of defiling her symbol of power, her throne. The perverse thought caused another surge of lust to run through her. The more she lost control, the more she would lose any of modesty she had left. Her body leaned to the left, and she raised her right knee slightly. She managed to present even more access to herself and her vulnerability.
He was right there, but she still cried out for him, "Zol!~" Her breaths were now full-on pants, and she moaned each time his fingers dived within her. He knew where all her sweet spots were, and it was obvious by the way her lower lips continued to drool over his attention. The heat was getting to her, her pale skin turned rosy just like her mood. "Desecrate it! Desecrate me!" There was was commanding again, but yet it was for her fall.
It all started to hit her, even a bit quicker than usual due to his absence. A metaphysical waterfall crashing down within her, all racing to the core of her femininity. Her eyes went wide, and she went breathless and silent. For a flicker of a moment, she recalled their past and her training. She knew she had to ask or get permission for release. Even her climax was his to control.
"I nee... need to!" Again, her restless arms pulled at her chains as she tried to grasp some of the control she surrendered. "please, let me....!" She cried out in light-hearted distress as she held back with his fingers still pumping and twisting. It was maddening to hold back. "Let me cum all over my throne! Let me cum for you, please!" There was rich desperation in the queen.
OP
OP
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2015
- Location
- ʙᴀ ᴅᴜᴍ 𝙩𝙨𝙨
Her voice was his favorite melody, and Zolris fancied himself the conductor. Each hitch of breath he pulled from her was perfectly complemented by the assonant accent of chains, a lurid song that ramped at his urging. This was a game he quite enjoyed. Curled his digits against every sensitive spot he has long since memorized to draw out the mews. Lingered at the apex of each hilting thrust, twisting and spreading his fingers to fill her that much more. Maintained a consistent tempo to get the crescendo he wanted - the rising notes of her ever increasing pants, that pretty vocal begging so beautifully.
Was it enough to sway him to show mercy though?
His lips parted, knowing that she was watching him carefully in anticipation of what he might or might not say. But he offered no words. Merely made a show of licking at his own canines, eyes gleaming with predatory delight as he watched her squirm for him some more. Back to that same smirk now, making her mind race over what his silence meant. All the while, he never slowed. Never stopped. Tested her control with each and every passing second, admired the way she strained against the chains, perhaps seeking a bit of a bite to hold back like that. Helped with her conviction, because he was ever so generous. Tightened those shackles around her wrist just a fraction with merely a thought, enough that she would feel the squeeze, as though his own digits curling harshly around her wrist bones. Another second. The chains pulled back. And back. Dragged her back with them until she was nearly in danger of slipping off of the throne.
And of course, off of his glistening digits as he continued to regard her with that same level-headed poise. “Hm, I’m not sure.” He brought his fingers to lips and licked lengthwise along his index, a soft growl vibrating his chest at the taste of her. There was truly nothing else he enjoyed more. “What was it that you said again?” His other hand gripped at her thighs before she might attempt anything unwise, the same silvery chains bolting them down, forcing her to maintain that kneeling position with little room to squirm. A difficult position to maintain, to be sure, with the way she was half-hanging off of the throne now, an added peril as that very human part of her doubtlessly chased after stability. A stability he refused to her. Instead, she was forced to rest much of her weight on her wrists, a bit of extra tension along her arms and shoulders to accompany the restless tension in her core.
“You should make sure that I haven’t grown weak, wasn’t it?” He smiled so wide that his fangs peaked out, as if it wasn’t he who just took her to the very edge, held her against it, then refused her the satisfaction she begged for.
“I owe you, isn't that right?” Fire danced in his eyes. Amusement. Hunger. Retribution. She had uttered such prideful lines, did she really think there wouldn’t be consequences?
His hand snaked up her thighs, traced along her sodden lips and up to toy with that delicate bud. Gently. Intentionally. Pressing into it but offering neither needed pressure nor consistency in his touch to actually give her what she wanted. “You don’t need, love, not yet.” A smile, cool, a perfect accompaniment to the loving cruelty of his gaze. “You want to.” Down again, slipping inside of her, a slow ascent before he filled her up again with three digits and simply held himself there. “But I’ll remind you what need feels like before the night is through.”
Was it enough to sway him to show mercy though?
His lips parted, knowing that she was watching him carefully in anticipation of what he might or might not say. But he offered no words. Merely made a show of licking at his own canines, eyes gleaming with predatory delight as he watched her squirm for him some more. Back to that same smirk now, making her mind race over what his silence meant. All the while, he never slowed. Never stopped. Tested her control with each and every passing second, admired the way she strained against the chains, perhaps seeking a bit of a bite to hold back like that. Helped with her conviction, because he was ever so generous. Tightened those shackles around her wrist just a fraction with merely a thought, enough that she would feel the squeeze, as though his own digits curling harshly around her wrist bones. Another second. The chains pulled back. And back. Dragged her back with them until she was nearly in danger of slipping off of the throne.
And of course, off of his glistening digits as he continued to regard her with that same level-headed poise. “Hm, I’m not sure.” He brought his fingers to lips and licked lengthwise along his index, a soft growl vibrating his chest at the taste of her. There was truly nothing else he enjoyed more. “What was it that you said again?” His other hand gripped at her thighs before she might attempt anything unwise, the same silvery chains bolting them down, forcing her to maintain that kneeling position with little room to squirm. A difficult position to maintain, to be sure, with the way she was half-hanging off of the throne now, an added peril as that very human part of her doubtlessly chased after stability. A stability he refused to her. Instead, she was forced to rest much of her weight on her wrists, a bit of extra tension along her arms and shoulders to accompany the restless tension in her core.
“You should make sure that I haven’t grown weak, wasn’t it?” He smiled so wide that his fangs peaked out, as if it wasn’t he who just took her to the very edge, held her against it, then refused her the satisfaction she begged for.
“I owe you, isn't that right?” Fire danced in his eyes. Amusement. Hunger. Retribution. She had uttered such prideful lines, did she really think there wouldn’t be consequences?
His hand snaked up her thighs, traced along her sodden lips and up to toy with that delicate bud. Gently. Intentionally. Pressing into it but offering neither needed pressure nor consistency in his touch to actually give her what she wanted. “You don’t need, love, not yet.” A smile, cool, a perfect accompaniment to the loving cruelty of his gaze. “You want to.” Down again, slipping inside of her, a slow ascent before he filled her up again with three digits and simply held himself there. “But I’ll remind you what need feels like before the night is through.”
Last edited:
Passion
Fueled
- Joined
- Nov 16, 2018
- Location
- Fever Dreams
Each second dragged on after she had begged for her release. His face was ever-calm, while hers the complete opposite. She searched his face desperately for unspoken answers before her gaze fixed on the smirk that crossed his lips. She knew that look.
Fuck.
Knowing him well enough that he was probably going to draw this out to deny her, she fought through her selfish urges to again tug on the chains. Her thighs attempted to close slightly to hinder his reach and slow her push towards the edge, but it wouldn't serve her much good. Nothing she could do would help, and so while he kept her dancing near the height of it all, the girl whimpered. Her soft cry laced with heart of her sweet despair. She tugged against her tightened binds, scraping for any control or ease for the situation as he kept going. Well, not for too long. The chains had pulled her back, left her to balance on the edge of her own throne now instead of her climax.
Feeling as if she was falling, she gasped and her hands circled up to grasp at the chains above her for a futile sense of security. She would not fall, but nor would be she find her equilibrium. Her heart thrashing, now feeling like a fish out of water without a part of him inside of her, and seized by the constant sensation of gravity threatening to cause her crash down on the cold marble floor. She had quickly become more compromised than she initially thought.
"Denying me wasn't what I was talking about!" It was, kinda; to deny the queen was a show of strength (or insanity), but it didn't fall in line with greed or pride. Now left with emptiness, she was frustrated between her rise and fall. "You do owe me, so give me what I pled for!" Her mind was stained with lustful instincts, and so she could not easily see that he was doing just that; stripped of control, left helpless near the edge, yet still trying to appease him despite her demanding words.
Luckily for her, his hand would reunite with the lust between her legs, and the way his fingers slipped up towards the button between her glistening lips had her hopeful. Her toes curled as she silently begged for his firm touch, but it would never come. "Dammit, Zol!" While he was earning her ire, it was still much better than her apathy she often carried. The Queen was much different in his hands, and to see her tilt her head back and whimper yet again, much like injured prey was a sight no one would believe.
He spoke of the difference between need and want, but from Lunetta's perspective, she saw was need. Her desires and anticipation continued to gnaw at her far too much for her to think differently. This man was the very center of her lust, and had been for many years. That very need would burn even brighter when he pushed his fingers back inside of her. Eyes flashed opened wide, and a soft, yet high-pitched moan rang out from her. Her mouth left to hang open as the pattern of rapid breathing reappeared. She was finally no longer empty, but his pause was dreadful.
"St-stop playing around!" She tugged at the chains again to try to keep herself steady. "I've offered myself instead of punishing you for treason." There had to be more to this. "What is it that you want truly from me, Zol?" Her heart strained from her own question. She could assume a few of the answers, possibly echoing back their own words from moments ago, but she wanted to hear it from his mouth especially after his absence.