Post by Zohartze on Jan 30, 2015 13:14:44 GMT -5
W A R N I N G : MATURE THREAD.
but to that second circle of sad hell,
where ‘mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
their sorrows. pale were the sweet lips i saw,
pale were the lips i kiss’d, and fair the form
i floated with, about that melancholy storm.
where ‘mid the gust, the whirlwind, and the flaw
of rain and hail-stones, lovers need not tell
their sorrows. pale were the sweet lips i saw,
pale were the lips i kiss’d, and fair the form
i floated with, about that melancholy storm.
“You’re most beautiful when you’re on the ground,” the bright-eyed male snarled down at the wolf in front of him. He wore a smile that dripped with playful venom and some primal darkness danced behind the veil of his irises, appearing as sparkles in the night. It was silent, save for their labored breaths and the touch-scratching of paw and nail against stone. The brute circled her like a hawk waiting to dive in for the kill. The Predator licked his lips, though only one thing would quench his thirst.
And oh, how the Prey was groveling. She was practically pleading with him, though she was no stranger to the sinister aura. She wanted him, but she wasn’t a pure soul, ready to be tainted. Though her body was virgin, her soul sang a song with rough edges and her teeth shone with a warlike ferocity as she presented herself.
Yet, somehow she knew, as she watched the Hunt in front of her, that the female wanted more. She wanted to be torn from the inside out so that she might put out the embers of actual feeling within. She wanted him to hurt her, make her hate him, so that she might never think on him again.
Zohartze walked towards them slowly, fascinated with the scene. The male tightened his circular walk around the Prey, and he didn’t seem to notice when Zo followed in his footsteps, dancing across from him around the smaller figure. He dwarfed her, and she could hardly bear to tear her eyes from his frame, until the creature in the center made a trance-breaking gasp, and Zohartze turned to face her.
A pit of dread instantly found its way into her stomach and forced its way up her esophagus as bile. Zohartze was looking at herself.
The small Mexican mix jolted awake, her mind burning and her body trembling. Her paws seemed to itch and beg her to move, so she granted them their desires and rose to stand with a shake of her fur. Her breath shook and she swallowed hard, stretching in an effort to relax. The smell of her own heat drenched her, and she winced. The smell would be counterproductive to her efforts to ignore her hormones and keep others off of her back—and very literally so. Washing would be the only option.
She carefully maneuvered herself through the cavernous system, nervously approaching the mouth of the tunnels, half in desperation to leave the place. She slept here on purpose—the feelings, the dreams, and the loss of control haunted her waking moments. This cave was such like the Eye of Fenris, the place she was held as something of a captive for so long, that she’d hoped it would return her to a state in which she was not so... Affected, she thought. She woke up feeling refreshed, distant, more alone. It was calming, in a nervous, panicky sort of way.
Zo could only hope that the panic would go away in time. If she could keep herself from him, it wouldn’t be a problem. Thinking about him elated her, and made her softer—she caught herself thinking of doing nice things for him, touching him gently, bringing him meals. It was involuntary, and while her mind seemed to thrive, another part of her made her body scream and ache, rejecting the feeling altogether. He made her soft, but he made her volatile. Sometimes she couldn’t remember where she was, or what she’d been doing only a moment earlier. Sometimes she wanted to snarl and kill only to bite her own tongue.
Zohartze stifled her thoughts and the small whine that threatened in her throat, and stepped out into the night air, the cool breeze feeling refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the cave. She looked out over the land for a moment, judging the way to the falls so that she could wash away the overpowering hormonal scent that followed her.
And oh, how the Prey was groveling. She was practically pleading with him, though she was no stranger to the sinister aura. She wanted him, but she wasn’t a pure soul, ready to be tainted. Though her body was virgin, her soul sang a song with rough edges and her teeth shone with a warlike ferocity as she presented herself.
Yet, somehow she knew, as she watched the Hunt in front of her, that the female wanted more. She wanted to be torn from the inside out so that she might put out the embers of actual feeling within. She wanted him to hurt her, make her hate him, so that she might never think on him again.
Zohartze walked towards them slowly, fascinated with the scene. The male tightened his circular walk around the Prey, and he didn’t seem to notice when Zo followed in his footsteps, dancing across from him around the smaller figure. He dwarfed her, and she could hardly bear to tear her eyes from his frame, until the creature in the center made a trance-breaking gasp, and Zohartze turned to face her.
A pit of dread instantly found its way into her stomach and forced its way up her esophagus as bile. Zohartze was looking at herself.
The small Mexican mix jolted awake, her mind burning and her body trembling. Her paws seemed to itch and beg her to move, so she granted them their desires and rose to stand with a shake of her fur. Her breath shook and she swallowed hard, stretching in an effort to relax. The smell of her own heat drenched her, and she winced. The smell would be counterproductive to her efforts to ignore her hormones and keep others off of her back—and very literally so. Washing would be the only option.
She carefully maneuvered herself through the cavernous system, nervously approaching the mouth of the tunnels, half in desperation to leave the place. She slept here on purpose—the feelings, the dreams, and the loss of control haunted her waking moments. This cave was such like the Eye of Fenris, the place she was held as something of a captive for so long, that she’d hoped it would return her to a state in which she was not so... Affected, she thought. She woke up feeling refreshed, distant, more alone. It was calming, in a nervous, panicky sort of way.
Zo could only hope that the panic would go away in time. If she could keep herself from him, it wouldn’t be a problem. Thinking about him elated her, and made her softer—she caught herself thinking of doing nice things for him, touching him gently, bringing him meals. It was involuntary, and while her mind seemed to thrive, another part of her made her body scream and ache, rejecting the feeling altogether. He made her soft, but he made her volatile. Sometimes she couldn’t remember where she was, or what she’d been doing only a moment earlier. Sometimes she wanted to snarl and kill only to bite her own tongue.
Zohartze stifled her thoughts and the small whine that threatened in her throat, and stepped out into the night air, the cool breeze feeling refreshing after the stifling atmosphere of the cave. She looked out over the land for a moment, judging the way to the falls so that she could wash away the overpowering hormonal scent that followed her.
And then she met His gaze.
( words ) 682
( tags ) Titan
( muse / ooc ) >:D