[ the naughty words that came out of his mouth unbidden sends a pleasurable shiver up her spine, her hand cupping her mound from outside her underwear as she hums in approval. ]
Mm, maybe I will.
[ she circles her fingers around the moist fabric of her panties. they'd barely even started and already she's this wet... or maybe, she's been wet way before phainon had changed gears. ]
That's... That's what I'm talking about, Phainon. Keep that up, and I might just wrap my legs around your head. Grasp the back of your head by the hair and tug, making sure you stay there for a little longer.
[ not going to lie, a sweet-looking boy like phainon talking dirty to her over the phone is really getting to her. the gap is insane. ]
[ If anyone who knew him as the vaunted Deliverer fated to bring a true dawn to their doomed world, he’s sure he would bring unquantifiable shame to the role, to his people, and his fellow Chrysos Heirs.
But theirs are a challenging exile, where their very survival and future fate depends on being a good partner in this Game.
In a way, he should thank his imagination for being as rich as it is. Should thank the library for its wealth of sordid stories (and his rather shamelessly ravenous appetite for literary trash). ]
I would gladly drink from your chalice until you beg for mercy, [ he promises, with an ache in his voice that suggests longing, ] If to cherish you means to drown, then drown me slowly, let your cries of ecstasy be my serenade into the abyss.
[ Poetry is in his blood, but so is self destructiveness. Still, the “too much” is all him, sorry. ]
I wonder how you’ll sound with my lips and tongue around the warm pearl of your desire. When my fingers plumb your depths.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Mm, maybe I will.
[ she circles her fingers around the moist fabric of her panties. they'd barely even started and already she's this wet... or maybe, she's been wet way before phainon had changed gears. ]
That's... That's what I'm talking about, Phainon. Keep that up, and I might just wrap my legs around your head. Grasp the back of your head by the hair and tug, making sure you stay there for a little longer.
[ not going to lie, a sweet-looking boy like phainon talking dirty to her over the phone is really getting to her. the gap is insane. ]
no subject
But theirs are a challenging exile, where their very survival and future fate depends on being a good partner in this Game.
In a way, he should thank his imagination for being as rich as it is. Should thank the library for its wealth of sordid stories (and his rather shamelessly ravenous appetite for literary trash). ]
I would gladly drink from your chalice until you beg for mercy, [ he promises, with an ache in his voice that suggests longing, ] If to cherish you means to drown, then drown me slowly, let your cries of ecstasy be my serenade into the abyss.
[ Poetry is in his blood, but so is self destructiveness. Still, the “too much” is all him, sorry. ]
I wonder how you’ll sound with my lips and tongue around the warm pearl of your desire. When my fingers plumb your depths.
Will you touch yourself and let me hear you?