mapofstars | Say my name like a scripture (Keep my heart beating like a drum)

Say my name like a scripture (Keep my heart beating like a drum)

Skyhold is a quiet, an expectation at this hour, when Liaran approaches it, a lone figure with little more than the pack on his back and the staff in his hand. He needs little more in truth, the Dalish are all used to a hard life and more would only make the trek harder, many miles from the Free Marchers to the Orlesian boarder, all on foot. Halla are sacred, too much to be risked and horses cost coin he doesn't have. Feet are free and they have carried him well enough for the majority of this journey, even if it has taken many months.

But many months had already passed before he had even set out. In truth Liaran had not fully agreed with Istimaethoriel's plan to send Isetriel to this meeting of the humans. She was still a touch too reckless, stubborn as an ox and her tongue could still be biting. It would be better to send him, he had argued, but Istimaethoriel had only shook her head, her own voice as stubborn as it was soft. No, it was a test, to see if Isetriel was truly ready. To see if she would remain with the clan, or if she would be better leaving, seeking her own fortune.

It had been one of the few times Liaran had raised his voice.

But in the end it had mattered little. Isetriel had gone, and he had stayed and Isetriel had been dragged into this mess of human making. Lifted aloft with the title of Herald to their goddess, as if that wasn't a noose. He recalls staring at each mark of her letter home, the words an attempt to reassure, trying to find what was hidden. He knew Isetriel, better than anyone else. Was one of the few she had opened up to, and he knew, even if her words didn't say it, she was scared. Terrified, probably and that was enough to make his decision. Istimaethoriel could accept it, or she could learn to understand it, but he wasn't staying here, waiting for more news. He would go, see how she was at the very least.

Now, standing at the gates to this ancient keep her wonders if he should have sent a letter. Maybe, he thinks as he gives his name to the guard, makes his request. "I'm here to see the Inquisitor," he says, the title strange on his tongue. Here to see Isetriel, but no that is her name, a name he isn't sure she's shared with these shems and he won't give it till he's sure. And they march him up the stairs to wait in this great hall as they fetch her, it's late, she'll probably be sleeping they say and he has a moment of regret but no. It's worth waking her and Liaran nods, taking a seat on the stairs before this ridiculous throne. It's fine. He'll wait.

He'll always wait.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It's difficult to keep his eyes open, but for her he'll try. Even if the sight of her riding him is ruinous, makes his cock twitch and throb inside her he'll try and keep his gaze. But she really is beautiful, always has been to him, but is even more so. Everything about her is perfect, the way her cheeks flush, her lips parted just so and her eyes half closed. It makes him want to drive her to the highest peak of pleasure, fingers grasping at her hip as if that can somehow steady him, as if he can't feel his climax coming closer and closer and it's so very hard to not give in.

But no, no, not before her. Not till she comes and even as she moans, he bites his lip. Swallows and stiffens, his nod quick and jerky. "I know, I know, I miss-" he gasps, words a struggle and it's easier to just kiss her, to tangle his tongue with her and he can hear himself whine as she lifts her hips, higher than before, and no, no she can't leave him like this, she can't and his fingers must be pressing bruises into her hip but he can't bring himself to care.

"Fuck!" The curse is a shout, the sound driven out of him by the way she sinks so quickly back down on his cock and instinct drives his hips up to meet her. Fuck, he's losing it, breathing ragged and his fingers are starting to fumble on her clit, stumbling and stuttering as he looses himself more and more and his body feels like it's strung tight, coiled and waiting but no she has to come first, she has to but each lift and sink of her hips leaves him gasping, head bowed as he tries to focus, mouth struggling to make words. "Is- sath, please, crea-ahh, creators."

He won't last much longer he knows even as he groans, thrusting his hips up and his thumb presses firmer against her clit, not letting up for a single second as he rubs the little bump of nerves, desperate to try and bring her over before he loses it.

His loud shout nearly startles her, Isetriel always having been accustom to the quite intensity that Liaran has maintained all these years. But the shock of it makes this all the more intense, all the more attractive, and she wishes she could hear him scream more. He can't speak, and neither can she. Isetriel gasps against his lips, trying to form words that don't come out, especially when she repeats that very same action again and again.

The friction to her clit only helps drive each sensation further, and she clenches tighter each time their hips meet. Isetriel feels his fingers dig into her hip, his breath coming in shorter spurts and she knows he is just as close as her. Isetriel's head dips back in the break of their kiss, leaving a thin line of saliva to connect them. But the chord lives a short life, especially when a final thrust brings her to her breaking point.

"Fenedhis, Liaran--!"

One last time, her fingers clench around his shoulders, just as her pussy does around his cock. It clamps down on him hard, pulsations fast and frantic when she finally hits that point of bliss. Isetriel trembles violently against him, her face quickly burying itself in the crook of his neck while her arms wrap around him in a tight, desperate embrace.

The tremors that wrack her are unstoppable, her cunt tightening around Liaran's cock in a vice-like grip while her hips tremble and writhe against him. Her climax is so intense it's nearly horrifying, and she isn't sure when or if it will ever stop.

He can't manage more than a few quick thrusts when he feels her come, thumb pressed to her clit and fingers squeezing her hip to pull her close. He buries his cock in her, feeling her twitch and spasm and tight, fuck, she's even tighter now as she trembles against him that he's gone, he can't, and he comes with a quieter gasp, jerking against her as his cock pulses.

It's cliche he supposes to think that the world stops within an orgasm but this one he swears does make the world stop. There's nothing besides her, her heart racing against his, her breath on his throat and her pussy clenched so tight around him, as if she's trying to milk him of every last drop of his seed. Creators, it's intense, leaves him gasping against her shoulder, even as some part of him has to sense to ease off her clit, to wrap that arm around her and squeeze her to him.

But slowly things start to return. He can feel her more now, still trembling a little and he swallows. Can hear more now, his own breathing and hers, the gentle slosh of the water in the tub and he shivers. Idly his hand strokes up her spine, soothing her, or trying to as he slowly gathers his thoughts again and again Liaran swallows, brow pressed to her shoulder.

"Wow."

He is a man of simple words, yes.

How she could somehow feel him throbbing more, as if she is even more sensitive, is beyond her. Isetriel feels as though she has connected with Liaran in a way that they have melted together, became one. And, Creators, she could stay like this forever. The love she had for him has surprisingly increased ten-fold, and it is amazing to know that this man is still full of surprises after all these years. It makes her heart swell, her insides burn while her belly feels as though a bucket of ice water has been poured into it. His arms are so firm and comfortable around him, and for the first time in months she feels safe.

She misses their home, wishes they could do this again in a place they are better familiar with. While Isetriel still trembles in his grasp, she feels stable in his hold.

Liaran offers but one word, one word that seems to speak volumes of what they have just done. And she laughs, even through her tears that still flow freely from the corners of her eyes and pool at his shoulder.

"Agreed," She says, shaking her head a touch, "And you wanted to wait longer. I told you it would be perfect."

His breathing starts to slow to something more normal and within that change Liaran realises how easily he's slipped into the same pattern as her. How it feels like their hearts beat at the same pace, the same time, as if they're one and he finds himself smiling, the expression hidden against her shoulder. Creators, he loves this woman. Creators he's glad he came, didn't listen to their Keeper and stay where he should have. That for once he decided to follow love over duty and his arms squeeze her for a moment.

Lifting his head she's quick to smile at her laugh and quicker to notice her tears. It draws a frown to his face as he cups her cheek, all other topics forgotten as he brushes a thumb over her cheek, brushing away the wetness there. She's crying and it makes his heart ache.

"You're crying." An obvious statement, but it helps him think, to try and work out what is wrong as he shifts. "Is everyth- Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

Somewhere in the brief silence between them, Isetriel slowly releases him. In the separation, she realizes just how sensitive she is, a shiver leaving her as his cock slowly does. But she settles in his lap, comfortable there within the warm water that cradles them within the tub. She would be content to remain here forever, happy to hear him say he loves her until the day she dies. And she wishes to spend the rest of her days with him, realizing how much she has fallen apart in his absence. A hole within her has been filled, happiness being her true fulfillment from this and she wishes she could just escape all of this with him.

Before Isetriel can prod at him more, he's taken her face into his hands, concern colored on his. Somehow, him taking note of her tears makes them flow even harder, a choked sob following that of a weak chuckle when she shakes her head.

"Yes, yes I'm fine, I just--"

She sniffles, her hands slipping from his shoulders to caress at his chest. Isetriel smiles despite the tears that stream over her lips.

"You've no idea how badly I have wanted this. Wanted you. So many days have passed where I thought of you, where I knew I might likely never see you again because of what has happened, I..."

Isetriel swallows something thickly, and she takes his face in her hands, looking away from him.

"I was supposed to go home, Liaran."

His concern is only for her, for her tears as she pulls back and he gathers her as close as he can as soon as she lets him. Creators, he hadn't expected these tears, finds himself at sort of a loss in the face off them. He's comfort Isetriel before sure, but never after such an intimate moment and bites his lips before shushing her softly, thumbs rubbing over her marked cheeks.

"It's okay Is," it will be at least, he'll make sure of it a fierce instinct of protectiveness threading through him as he smiles softly at her, letting her hands wander.

"I know... I know, I do." A soft sigh and he leans up to kiss her brow. "I... It was hard for me too, it was... terrible, not having you there." Life had felt emptier, duller and he only lets her go for a moment before he's gathering her closer, arms tight around her, hand running up and down her spine as he encourages her to press her face to his shoulder.

"I know. But I'm here. I'm here now." Another soft shush and slowly he starts to shift, getting his feet under him as he tightens his hold on her and goes to stand. The water is making them prune, is starting to cool and sitting here soaking will help no one. Better to try and get her back to bed, she surely must be tired. "And I won't leave. I swear it, ma vhenan."

Yes, they should... Get out. This is quite possibly not an appropriate place to remain for the evening, and Isetriel follows Liaran's guidance out of the tub. She tries to steel herself for the moment, stepping out while her wrist wipes tears from her eyes. She reaches for two towels, large and fluffy, warm, and she wraps it around his shoulders before taking care of herself.

She laughs, "This is stupid, I know..."

Tying the towel around her, covering herself, she looks back to him.

"But... Have you not come here to take me back? Surely, you had reasons other than just coming to see me. Perhaps in a few hours, we could..."

Escape. She doesn't want this. While she has accepted her position as Inquisitor, she never wanted it. She told Cassandra that before accepting the sword and her title with reluctance. But they could find someone else-- Hawke is here. He would do a far greater job.

He slips his own towel down, wrapping it around his hips before his hands go back to her, helping her get it nice and tight around her. He needs to hold her because she needs to be held, needs to have of this weight taken off her shoulders. Again he finds himself wishing the Keeper had sent him, if only to shield her from all of this. To have been able to keep her safe from these games shems play, of politics and warfare, with no concern to those who may be harmed.

"It's not stupid," he says softly, arms sliding around her waist again as he looks down at her. Creators she looks like that little girl she once was, struggling to master a spell, to remember a piece of lore, her frustrations at her own perceived failures eating at her. And just like then he wants to make it better, but this... this is bigger then themselves, than anything they've ever faced.

"I'd like to." The but goes unspoken but for his sigh as his hand slides down, grasps her wrist and lifts her marked hand for him to look at. He's heard enough to know what it is, what it can do, and how vital it is. "Can... Is there any other way they can close these rifts?"

Isetriel lets him take her, content and even relieved to be back in his arms where she belongs. He is home, she tells herself. Isetriel has never felt so at home than she does now, and she silently prays that she never loses this again.

But he takes her hand, the mark still glowing even in the dimly-lit room that holds them. Her gaze falls upon it, a sinking feeling returning back to her gut when she's reminded of the true purpose that has been thrust upon her. She frowns.

"... No," she answers, brow furrowed, "No, this burden befalls only me."

Just her luck. She had told Corypheus he could have this blasted anchor back, but she had absorbed it. It has taken her completely, body and soul, and there is absolutely no end to it in sight. It's just as daunting as the role she has assumed here. And it's a reminder that she can't just simply turn her back on everyone.

In frustration, her fingers clench into a fist, desperate to cover the mark that has even awoken her in the dead of night.

"I didn't want this. Why me? I was given but one task, and that was to gain intel from the Conclave. To bring something substantial back to our Keeper and prove that I am not a waste of space among our kind."

She looks to Liaran, happiness fading from her gaze and pain glowing in her bright eyes.

"I can't do this. I'm an elf-- A mage. How am I to know they've no intentions on slaughtering me after this is done?"

"I'm sorry."

His eyes close briefly as a sigh escapes him and he is, he truly is. He wishes that he could take this burden off her shoulders, could free her from these responsibilities that chain her but it's beyond him. This is a destiny life has set her on, for reasons neither of them can understand and Liaran cups her cheek, presses his lips to her brow.

She aches with her anger and all he can do is be her rock again. Be her anchor, her home and he'll do that. Over and over as long as he needs to if it'll help. He means it when he says he won't go, the Keeper will understand. There will be other mages, Istimaethoriel isn't that old. They can always go back later, when all this is done.

"You're not a waste Isetriel." There's a note of fierceness in his own words as his eyes spring open and he won't let her say such things. "You never were, never could be and this... this..."

How to comfort her in words that will reach her ears. Will get through that stubbornness and he sighs, brow pressed to hers, hips pressed to hers, as close as he can make them.

"You have done so much, from what I've heard... helped so many, shems and those of the People too. Can't you see?" It's a chance, he supposes, to help all of the People, not just the Clan. An inspiration to see one of their own rise to such heights, even if it's a title that's been thrust upon her and he kisses her softly, sweetly, his words dropping to a whisper.

"I won't let them touch you ma vhenan. I swear it, no matter what."

While it hurts to allow this to get to her, for her to break down, there is relief in letting go. She hasn't truly been able to share what this has done to her, and Liaran is the best person with the best ears. He has always been there for her, for issues that seem so... So minor now. She had been frowned upon by so many before, but none had looked at her with such disgust than when she was a prisoner assumed as the Divine's murderer. It is true that she has come far, has shown mercy when the responsibility has been given to her. So many have come out of this better because of the combined efforts of an elf and humankind.

You're not a waste, Isetriel... That isn't the first time he has told her this. Liaran and Istimaethoriel were the only who thought as much. The Keeper had found so much faith in a girl who'd found her magic at such a young age. Yet she had failed for so long to master it, and even her skills now are so fresh and new. Liaran hugs her so fondly, kisses her in an outpour of love that she missed so much. It, at the very least, closes the well of tears.

He is right to point out the accomplishments she has made. She can do this, and she has so many times already. Corypheus is terrified, she knows. She will find him, she will stop him...

And perhaps, finally, the shems will think highly of elves for once.

She has been expected to appear as this fearless leader, a beacon of hope for Thedas. But she needs to hear that Liaran will protect her, even if she doesn't truly need to be protected. Isetriel hangs on his words, closes her eyes when he whispers in her ear that he will be here for her. That he will stay.

Her arms reach out to him, drape over his shoulders as her head tilts upward to let their lips meet again. She has to kiss him, to show him how much his words mean to her.

"Ar lath ma, Liaran..." She kisses him again, "I am stronger now with you beside me. If you are to stay, to fight next to me... We will finally go home. Together."

He helps her up, arms around her waist to hold her to him as he bends his head to meet her mouth. Anything to lessen the strain it must be to kiss him. And it feels so right to kiss her, to let all his love pour out in such a simple gesture. Feels so right to have her in his arms and he still can't believe he denied himself this for so long. That it took almost losing her for him to realise how much he wanted her by his side, in his arms, to openly love her with everything that he had.

"Ar lath ma, ma vhenan." He eases them apart from the kiss, only so he can press another to her lips, to her cheek and jaw and his grip tightens, crushing her to his chest as he sighs against her ear and this, this is something he will never let go of. No matter what, no matter how long it takes he's staying, by her side for all of it. "You were always strong though."

Always. The world has never been able to beat her down, no matter what. And that is a strength that is all hers, he knows it. She has an indomitable spirit, always fighting no matter what and he knows she could have kept fighting by herself if she truly had to. But she doesn't and that's the point that he focuses on, pressing his lips to the curve of her shoulder.

He doesn't warn her when he picks her up, letting his body language say it for him as he bends and suddenly she'll find herself in his arms, knees over one arm as he cradles her to his chest. "You should get some rest," he says as he carries her out of the bathroom. Really, he's disturbed her sleep enough, and with that big bed in her room he plans on making she gets at least some rest.

She could listen to him say that a million times more. That he loves her, that she's strong enough... Only his opinion has ever mattered. While it is certain she is not going home for a while, at least he has taken the chance at staying. It changes the game completely, and somehow she feels her confidence grow. Isetriel gets lost in his kiss, sighs in content when he takes them to her cheek, jaw, and shoulder. His lips are so soft, his breath warm, and she loses complete attention to her surroundings even after he's scooped her off her feet.

Despite that, there is a soft little yelp when he takes her in his arms, laughing a touch at it. He hasn't done such a thing since they were children, and she can't help the laugh that follows.

"If I am to remain, so does my role here. I am no longer nine, you know." She prods at him playfully, her lips kissing the lobe of his ear.

And as they make way to her room, she can't help but grin.

"There is no way I'm able to sleep now. I am hardly tired."

She feels good in his arms, a weight he can easily bare these days. Oh he's no warrior, not prone to great strengths but Liaran had always made sure to keep himself strong enough. A mage could be over reliant on their abilities in magic, but magic could fail even the best. Being able to throw a solid punch was just being wise, having common sense.

It also has this benefit, which is quite the excellent one, even as she pokes at him, Liaran twitching a little at the way she kisses his ears. She knows they're sensitive, the minx and he huffs softly, more amused than annoyed.

"Isetriel. I'm sure you have a lot to do tomorrow." He's careful as he sets her down on the bed, adjusting her towel to cover her a little better before he sits next to her, hand still on her side. "No longer nine or not, you still need your sleep."

He has to understand the type of monster he has created in such a short amount of time. Knowing how her intentions have been all these years, surely he hadn't expected anything less than an unquenchable thirst on her behalf. Before she can launch an assault on his ear, he sets her down on the bed, and she wrinkles her nose up at him. Always playing hard to get, even after he's finally given in.

"I have a lot to do every day," She argues, almost childishly.

Isetriel quickly rolls to her side to face him, scooting as close as she's able across the silken sheets below them.

"Come now, Liaran. You've only had but a shred of what you know I have to offer. We have, what... Ten years to catch up on? There's fashionably late, and then there is, well..."

She laughs, "The foolishness that can only be named Liaran."

Reaching for his hand at her waist, she takes it by the palm, gently ushering it to the bottom of her towel. She lets his fingers graze the underside of its hem, across her thigh.

"I know you are hungry. To be honest, I skipped supper and am surely quite famished myself."

Edited 2016-02-06 05:01 (UTC)

All he can do is lift a brow and no, he's really not all that surprised by her. It's no less than he would expect from her, you give Isetriel an inch and she'll take a mile and then some. Always was a pushy little thing, wanting things her way, and stubborn till she got it. But he's used to countering her arguments these days, snorting softly as he shakes his head

"Which probably means you haven't had enough rest."

But Creators she is stunning sprawled out in the bed. The sheets are soft, and here she is in little but a scrap of a towel, hair wet and tangled on her pillow, lit by only the moonlight. Temptation come again and he swallows a groan, pushing his own wants down. "Please, Ise, I'm only thinking of you. We have plenty of ti-ah."

Her thigh is so soft to his touch, so fair it glows in the moonlight and Liaran swallows. He's no young man, closer to 30 than she but still he can feel his cock stir a little, feel himself give a little even as he catches her innuendo and his cheeks flush, Liaran biting his lip.

"I... Do you promise you'll go to sleep after this?" Really... a few moments more won't hurt he supposes, and perhaps it will even help. Will relax her some what and he swallows, lashes fluttering as he looks down, thumb brushing slowly over the crease where thigh meets hip. "Do you swear it?"

Of course she wishes to take more. Now that she has finally gotten what she's wanted this whole time, she is absolutely insatiable. Him lying there in nothing but a towel, wet and warm, does not help at all. And her eyebrow perks when he makes that soft little noise at the touch of her leg. Liaran has always been attracted to her, that much she knows, and finally being able to truly utilize that has been rather exciting. Isetriel tugs her towel up ever so slightly, revealing the curve of her hip and still covering the assets between them.

Really, she appreciates his concern but she tells only the truth when she says she is far too excited to sleep. After tonight? Her adrenaline is still pumping through her veins, the excitement from what they have finally done still fueling her.

Her lips curl into a smirk at the attempt in compromise.

"If you are able to completely wear me out? Of course, you have a deal. On my honor."

His own nudity isn't something he thinks about too much, the state almost natural to him. After all it's just skin, it's just a body, and really the same things can be said about hers. After all he's seen it all many a time before this, she's always taken great efforts to flaunt it at him, trying to sway him. He's seen all of her, again and again, it's nothing new.

But it is. It is new because now he can allow himself to touch. Now he can let himself try and follow through with the hundred thousand things he's always wanted to do and Liaran's hand strokes over hip, gentle as he pushes her back onto her back, his own movements fluid as he comes closer. He can touch, and taste and his mouth feels dry and the thought. Creators, what will she taste like. Will she still taste like him, or did the water wash all of that away.

He fixates on the thought, even as he drags his eyes back up, brow lifting. Pushing, pushing, and he snorts softly, shaking his head as he leans forward to kiss her softly. His hand slides up her side as he does, gently pushing her towel apart so he can peel it off her in a moment.

"Ise, be reasonable..."

She can't help but feel a little victorious the instant he rolls her onto her back. And Isetriel allows him to without a fight, of course. Her arms lift, fall against the pillow where her wrists brush along her wet hair that curls along the silken pillowcase. Isetriel shivers when he takes apart her towel, the cold air of the room making her skin prickle and her nipples harden yet again. She sucks in her stomach, muscles tensing and distorting to the shift as her body arches underneath him. She returns the kiss, though the smirk doesn't leave her.

Isetriel hums playfully, letting out a heavy exhale at the tail end of their kiss, her tongue darting out to teasingly drag along his lip.

"Have you not heard of my achievements? I am the most reasonable."

His hand returns to her hip, gentle as he holds her down. After all there are still some small ways to try and influence a measure of control in all of this, even with how easily he knows he bends to her whims. He can't help it in truth, not now that he's had a taste of her and it's hard to hold onto the thought of her duties, of all that she must do, and he must do all he can to help her with those.

"Be merciful then," He snorts softly, shifting so he lays next to her and slowly Liaran begins to kiss down her throat. Taking his time, each kiss soft and slow and his thumb rubs circles against her hip, one leg covering one of her own to trap her against the mattress. "I have heard much of the Inquisitor's mercy, will she not grant me some?"

Oh, never has she thought of utilizing her title in such a light. Isetriel shivers at his plea, neck craning as his lips pepper it in kisses. Her lips part, body still arched beneath him, hips rolling onto his touch. Already she is certain of how wet she is, hot and eager between her legs. It has certainly sparked an idea she will be sure to share with him later, of the image she visualizes with him devouring her while she sits upon her throne.

"Mmm, I might be inclined to provide such a favor... If you present your case just ri--Ah."

Isetriel wriggles underneath him in anticipation, far too impatient to wait yet again. Now that she's had it once, she needs more.

The flicker of a smirk forms on his lips even as he presses a kiss to the swell of one breast. His laughter he swallows, as he kisses down and down and then his tongue is swiping across one stiffened nipple, quick and fleeting and he knows she'll want more, won't be satisfied with just that.

So he gives her more, lips closing around the little peak and Liaran sucks gently on it, flicking his tongue across her again. Creators she tastes good, and he hums, content to just suckle at her at his own pace, knowing that nothing will frustrate her more. It's a benefit really, of how tightly he can control himself, making it easy to ignore the twitch of his cock as it starts to harden.

It's with a soft wet pop that he lets her nipple free, slow as he starts to kiss across her breast to the other, to repeat himself. "So kind," he mumbles into the hollow between her breasts, and softly he laughs, glancing up at her. "So reasonable."

If this is his way of retaliation, to take things agonizingly slow when she so clearly wants him? She has to say, she's impressed. Even as frustratingly slow his gestures are, she gasps the instant his lips suckle on her breast. The pressure and satisfying sting stealing a hiss from gritting teeth. Already, she can feel wetness pool between her legs, causing a slide when she shifts underneath him.

Isetriel moans when his face comes between her breasts, and she rolls into him, inhaling to puff her chest in hopes of feeling more.

"Have I-- Nn... Have I already corrupted you? I never pictured you so devious."

His laughter is a quiet huff, Liaran feeling her squirm against him, his weight easily keeping her half pinned to the bed. Now though he slides hid hand up, catching one of her hands to trap it, to try and keep her from getting any sort of idea as his teeth nip gently at her breast.

"Didn't you?" A small smile and he soothes the bite with his tongue, gentle as he runs it over the mark. "You never were the best at paying attention sometimes."

Because he's always been like this. Always dreamt of the ways he would worship her body if he ever could. All the ways to bring her to pleasure, again and again and he leans a little more, his hum soft as his lips close around her nipple and he sucks, slow but firm, eyes closed so he can just listen to her.

Say my name like a scripture (Keep my heart beating like a drum)

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)