[ It's a distinct shift in roles, the way Miguel reaches out to slide down her belly and between the apex of her thighs. She sighs out, voice sweet, when he runs his fingers over her. She legs spread wider, subconsciously giving him more room to play with her as he pleases. And her body springs to life at that, the way he thumbs at her nipple, cups her breast, like he has all the time in the world. There's a growing wetness beneath the hand at her sex, enough for him to feel the beginnings of her slick through her shorts.
It's oddly intimate, how this all is, just for a single bite. This, the way they are now, provides a sense of awareness she usually isn't afforded when his limps do clamp down on her. Because of the pain, because of the guttural noises he makes when fangs puncture skin, because of the overwhelming sense of belonging she gets when he does it. And yes its messy, it's a mission to clean up her sheets after, but it's such a passioned moment that is always there, then gone once they both finish.
But how they are now, it makes her skin tingle, makes her gaze a little glassy when she meets his after he draws back. It feels like a treat, to be so functioning in the before. There's a rock of her hips against his hand once the depth of his gaze hits her, once she comes to that conclusion, Lottie reaching around to fumble at her neck where the warmth of his lips once were. She swipes up some of those beads of blood onto the pad of her fingertips, lets her eyes drop down to make sure it's there before she looks back up to him.
Flits her gaze, only for a moment, deliberately to his mouth, before raising her browsβ and those fingertips towards his lips. She's not fully aware of what it'd mean to bring the scent of copper so close to his nose, all the more pungent among the floral scents Lottie bathes in already. No, she's focused on whether he'll suck them clean or not. ]
[ The metal scent makes his eyes go vivid with rings of scarlet. For all that Miguel was terrible with words, Lottie having to really break him down to beg, he was great at picking up unspoken signals.
He licks some drops off her fingertips, gently taking them into his mouth to savor the taste of her. He holds them between the loose scissor-lock of his fangs, gentle but pointed, and he sucks them clean with a low-lidded, affectionate expression. Even in a night like this where he was the one up top, pleasing her is what kindled a fire in him.
His fingers finds the button of her shorts and undoes it with a flick, ready to go a little deeper. The size of his hand makes for quite a large intrustion, stretching the fabric as he slides underneath to find her clit nestled in her folds. Now he could apply some more direct pressure over the sensitive nerves with his fingertips.
His other hand releases her breast to tilt her head to the side, leaving the skin of her neck taut. He frees his mouth with a little accidental nick of the hand from his fangs, and bends down to breathe over his chosen spot. Taking in the floral and blooming sexual scent of her, and releasing the hold his own carnal urges, just a little, he ghosts his teeth over the base of her neck.
Four pinpricks of pain radiate outwards as the fangs puncture into her flesh, increasing sharply once he flexes his jaw and sinks them in deep. The possessive growl in the chest follows the flow of blood onto his tongue. And then he expresses the venom - a careful, limited amount - but well enough for her to start to feel its effects within the minute of it flowing in her blood.
All the automatic functions of her body, the pleasure and sensation of her skin should remain mostly intact, but her limbs will start to numb over. Coordinating words and moving her eyes will suddenly feel impossible, though her throat could still make some form of noise. The sharp pain of the fangs and neurotoxin will numb over, mercifully, though they won't be entirely gone. ]
[ Miguel is truly everything, right now. She thinks of how hot he looks, mouth so eagerly taking her fingers in, eyes so beautiful. And all thought leaves her mind, really, when she feels the hot, wet and warm that is his tongue at her digits, imagining what it'd feel like to have him nestled between her thighs doing the very same thing. The sharp points of his fangs only adds to it allβ the element of danger, that Miguel uses these fangs for a real practical purpose on enemy and foe. Yet here he is, looking at her with a gaze so burning all blood rushes south, being careful not to get her fingers caught on those sharp canines.
Lottie moans at the sight, the sound pitching up when she feels his bare palm snake down her belly and settle at her core. She has to spread her legs wider to accommodate, being reminded so viscerally the difference between them as he stretches her shorts taut to fit himself inside. She whimpers hotly, rutting her hips with a bit more purpose once his thumb is nestled at her clit. She throbs beneath his fingertips, slick and wet from the eroticism of it all.
She doesn't even mind when he cuts her fingers, it only adds to it all because this is so very hot. One hand grips the base of his neck, while the other presses atop his hand, forcing him to press down harder in time with those four pinpricks.
It'sβ it hurts. Feels like the pain she'd get when he'd pull her hair too tight at her request, the kind that teeters on the edge of pleasure. He breaks skin, all four of his canines digging into her neck, his tongue lavishing at her, mixing saliva and blood on her milky skin. But that growl. She's pressed so tight against him she can feel the rumble, can practically taste the words mine, mine, mine fluttering in the air.
By the time his venom kicks in, she is cruelly almost there. So frustratingly close to orgasm and she can no nothing about it β the dizzying pace of her hips at his hand slows, a little unsure of herself as limbs growing heavy (numb?). She'd be a liar saying that this wasn't scary in some way, but she feels her safest in his arms. And, luckily still functional enough to slur out (whether it's understandable, who knows, but her affectionate and needy tone remains the same): ]
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It's oddly intimate, how this all is, just for a single bite. This, the way they are now, provides a sense of awareness she usually isn't afforded when his limps do clamp down on her. Because of the pain, because of the guttural noises he makes when fangs puncture skin, because of the overwhelming sense of belonging she gets when he does it. And yes its messy, it's a mission to clean up her sheets after, but it's such a passioned moment that is always there, then gone once they both finish.
But how they are now, it makes her skin tingle, makes her gaze a little glassy when she meets his after he draws back. It feels like a treat, to be so functioning in the before. There's a rock of her hips against his hand once the depth of his gaze hits her, once she comes to that conclusion, Lottie reaching around to fumble at her neck where the warmth of his lips once were. She swipes up some of those beads of blood onto the pad of her fingertips, lets her eyes drop down to make sure it's there before she looks back up to him.
Flits her gaze, only for a moment, deliberately to his mouth, before raising her browsβ and those fingertips towards his lips. She's not fully aware of what it'd mean to bring the scent of copper so close to his nose, all the more pungent among the floral scents Lottie bathes in already. No, she's focused on whether he'll suck them clean or not. ]
no subject
He licks some drops off her fingertips, gently taking them into his mouth to savor the taste of her. He holds them between the loose scissor-lock of his fangs, gentle but pointed, and he sucks them clean with a low-lidded, affectionate expression. Even in a night like this where he was the one up top, pleasing her is what kindled a fire in him.
His fingers finds the button of her shorts and undoes it with a flick, ready to go a little deeper. The size of his hand makes for quite a large intrustion, stretching the fabric as he slides underneath to find her clit nestled in her folds. Now he could apply some more direct pressure over the sensitive nerves with his fingertips.
His other hand releases her breast to tilt her head to the side, leaving the skin of her neck taut. He frees his mouth with a little accidental nick of the hand from his fangs, and bends down to breathe over his chosen spot. Taking in the floral and blooming sexual scent of her, and releasing the hold his own carnal urges, just a little, he ghosts his teeth over the base of her neck.
Four pinpricks of pain radiate outwards as the fangs puncture into her flesh, increasing sharply once he flexes his jaw and sinks them in deep. The possessive growl in the chest follows the flow of blood onto his tongue. And then he expresses the venom - a careful, limited amount - but well enough for her to start to feel its effects within the minute of it flowing in her blood.
All the automatic functions of her body, the pleasure and sensation of her skin should remain mostly intact, but her limbs will start to numb over. Coordinating words and moving her eyes will suddenly feel impossible, though her throat could still make some form of noise. The sharp pain of the fangs and neurotoxin will numb over, mercifully, though they won't be entirely gone. ]
no subject
Lottie moans at the sight, the sound pitching up when she feels his bare palm snake down her belly and settle at her core. She has to spread her legs wider to accommodate, being reminded so viscerally the difference between them as he stretches her shorts taut to fit himself inside. She whimpers hotly, rutting her hips with a bit more purpose once his thumb is nestled at her clit. She throbs beneath his fingertips, slick and wet from the eroticism of it all.
She doesn't even mind when he cuts her fingers, it only adds to it all because this is so very hot. One hand grips the base of his neck, while the other presses atop his hand, forcing him to press down harder in time with those four pinpricks.
It'sβ it hurts. Feels like the pain she'd get when he'd pull her hair too tight at her request, the kind that teeters on the edge of pleasure. He breaks skin, all four of his canines digging into her neck, his tongue lavishing at her, mixing saliva and blood on her milky skin. But that growl. She's pressed so tight against him she can feel the rumble, can practically taste the words mine, mine, mine fluttering in the air.
By the time his venom kicks in, she is cruelly almost there. So frustratingly close to orgasm and she can no nothing about it β the dizzying pace of her hips at his hand slows, a little unsure of herself as limbs growing heavy (numb?). She'd be a liar saying that this wasn't scary in some way, but she feels her safest in his arms. And, luckily still functional enough to slur out (whether it's understandable, who knows, but her affectionate and needy tone remains the same): ]
Miguel, please.. Close.