nestingdevil: ➥ pantaloons@dreamwidth (♠ } let's strike a bargain and see)
the name's greed ([personal profile] nestingdevil) wrote2013-12-26 10:10 pm

➥ OPEN POST | image, lyrics, prompts, etc




➥ Leave a prompt, a scene, a picture, lyrics. Everything's green, sugar.
onemistress: andromedafirethought; dw (pic#6520225)

[personal profile] onemistress 2014-01-12 02:25 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It takes a while to even recall what he said, too focused on the way he teased her. But when she does, she watches him with low eyes. Sitting in his lap, like this, feeling him torment her and give her pleasure in so equal amounts. The anger she might of spat otherwise was simply not there, just a quiet longing she has not the sense to hide. It's longing that did this to her, that brought her into his embrace.

But in this life, in the end, it came down to much the same thing.
] I think you should hate me if I gave you more. [ It's breathed out, and the words were so full of regret. Bitterness etched into it, but wistfulness too. She'd long accepted, that what she was, was utterly unlovable. Not as a Queen, not as a woman, and she must have both. It was for the best, she told herself, she hardly knew what to do with her own weaknesses, let alone giving them to another to see.

But all the world had her as a Queen, he had her as a woman. A trembling, desperate, hungry and flushed woman pressed skin to skin with him -- and it would be enough. To have a respite for awhile. Eyes closed as she enjoyed how he touched her. When he bit she did nothing but expose her neck to him, stretching herself out for him to do as he may. She was far beyond caring about such a thing.

Not when -- and now she whimpers, softly gasping out -- as he slipped up and into her and she wants ( shewantsshewantshewants ) to move, to grind down. But not when he's so still, and she can feel it, all of him. His stillness is a contrast to her sharp gasp and needy moans that come so close to begging that he move, that he let her move.

But she can't with teeth set so close to her throat, a wolf's jaw that nuzzles her, and she can feel his warm breath on her skin as much as where his teeth almost could draw blood. But it's their dance, where he is kind, she is vicious, and where he is deadly, she is giving. So her hands swept up his back, into his hair and then down again. Whatever it took to soothe him, to coax him. Could pretend that it wasn't because she couldn't keep still, that way.

And then, so very carefully, she shifted her hips against his, biting her lip to keep herself silent from it.
]
onemistress: andromedafirethought; dw (pic#6520199)

[personal profile] onemistress 2014-01-13 04:14 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Almost the instant he began to move, the pressure began to build in the base of her spine. She can stand the slow pace he sets, because it is worse than not moving, and with his hold of his hands on her hips, she can become mindless to it. Her arms sliding over his shoulders, fingers knotting tightly until her knuckles turned white, with each slow rise and pull of her hips.

Like this, she's unaware of him looking at her, reacting to her, even as she reacts to him. It's been too long -- and for that it might be her undoing. All that matters to her, is fitting herself against him, whining softly when he left her empty, and sighing when he pressed back in.

This, all of this, she had no word for. She had no place doing this at all. But it was right to her, that they did all of it against earth and sky, and no one else. Better than being married, here she could be herself, rather than the priests watching, muttering prayers like it would ensure that she would get with child. She had no idea what it was like to be bedded for the sake of state, and she never would -- God willing, she never would.

It was more amusing to think how he would fare, with a priest and court watching.
]

Greed. [ A sharp word at how he twisted her, surprised by it momentarily. It slips her out of rhythm with him for a moment. Because his teeth were at her ear, his fingers tugging at her hair and so much like a doll as she twisted around him. The shudder making her back arch as she moved that little more insistently against him. The next stroke up, and she brought herself down that little harder, whole body clenching a little, her shoulders tense and her lips opened to a moan to echo the growl she felt rumble in his chest more than she heard.

But more than that -- and God forbid she should not be welcoming to any part of him -- her head turned that little bit, to press her lips against his claw. Hardly bothered by the black that crawled along and covered him, wondering if it tasted different to his skin. Her eyes open just enough to watch him react. Watching the blackness that shifted like a living thing on his body. Where his hand cupped the dip of her hip, the flex of his muscles as he moved with her. The contrast of all that dark against her white skin.
]
onemistress: andromedafirethought; dw (pic#6520258)

[personal profile] onemistress 2014-01-14 05:34 pm (UTC)(link)
[ His words were all the incentive she needed -- and not that she needed very much to begin with. Adjusting her hold on him slightly, to hold his hand steady as she kissed his claws, her tongue flicking ever so gently. Teasing, tasting, gauging him and his reactions as she ever did her deals with him.

And really -- this hardly felt like reality, like something she was doing was real when she watched him draw blood and heal himself in the same breath. Stranger than all the priests ever said in their books. At any other time, she'd record it carefully. Be fascinated and appalled in equal measure.

But now? she found it just all to follow one seamless movement, as soon his shoulder was bared, her head dipped, pressing her lips, her teeth and her tongue over where the cut had run. Tasting no blood, at least not until she snatched a kiss off him. But it was fleeting, gone before she'd taken another gasp in. Like he had with her, her teeth found the dip of his neck in the second before he pulled away, settling on the ground again.

Elizabeth is frustrated with him, for a moment, she liked his heat, when it was close. Every bit of hellfire she could have under her palms. But he is a devil -- and he does so torment, or at least she realized in the moment his hand moved. In that, if she had his claws, his teeth, he would be cut to ribbons, the hand braced on his chest sunk in and scratched down. But it was an absent action, and selfish she was, the particulars of him were forgotten as she shuddered and writhed.

All that mattered was having every inch of him, and how hard it was to keep silent if this continued.

Being caught like this would be the death of her, in the end. As much as she might of forgotten all else, she didn't trust the hedge walls and stones to keep this as quiet as she'd like. The cry that came from her was smothered against the back of her hand. Teeth biting into her knuckles, but it still didn't keep it all down. The sound bubbling up and coming free despite her best efforts at each deep movement, rattling it from her. Symptoms of a cause.

It was the riddle of her existence, that it must all be locked up deeply inside of her.
] Greed, they'll -- [ - another cry and her head tipped back, feeling the heat curl in her stomach, gone again in the slide of his cock out and then back in -- ] they'll hear.

[ As much of a warning as she could get out, gasped and panted out. Something like begging or as close as she would ever come to it, in this.

But she would never ask him to stop.
]
onemistress: andromedafirethought; dw (pic#6520258)

[personal profile] onemistress 2014-02-09 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He was like water, holy to her in her desperation. Her lips finding his and it isn't so much to kiss, but as he offered, a place to smother her cries, emptying them against his lips. Each one of them a mix of words and meanings, taken out of her in short pantings breaths. She forced herself down harder against him, her hands listless running over him, pulling and tugging him at him. Nails raking on his shoulders, feather light on his stomach and grasping at his hair when she needed him to hold still just so. Enough that she could hide the sound of her own lust against his skin.

And she might of laughed -- breathless and stolen in seconds, against his lips. Pulling back only to stare at him in bemusement mixed with all else that fluttered through her.
] Me? Alone? When is a Queen ever truly alone. [ Anger there too, maybe, but gone again in a instant. ]

[ It fits in some way he wouldn't make it easier for her all the same. HIs rough fingers finding exactly what they want on her body like he had been doing this for years. She has the spare second, biting down hard on his shoulder as she cried out louder again. Something that would have been too distinct, too obvious to anyone listening. For him, and only for him. But then, not at all, for herself. She wanted this, wanted to be like any other woman, even if that wasn't strictly true, but she wanted and wanted and wanted. He worked her body over like she was instrument he knew well how to play, and when she kissed him again, he frustration showed. Her legs shaking, clinging to him, and she felt savage and empty and like she was near to drowning.

But not enough, never enough. Her movements speeding up, asking without saying, because her pride would never allow that. It was however acceptable enough to torment him as much as he did her. Finding every part of him to trace over and mark as her own.
]