11-04-2021, 02:25 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-04-2021, 12:17 PM by Olive. Edited 2 times in total.)
Content Warning
This post contains content that may be unsettling to some readers, including:- Sexuality
Deep, gut-wrenching satisfaction overtook her as his tongue moved across the pale feathering of her cheek, and Olive fell deeper under the titan's own spell. He wove a magic that he didn't know; that even Olive was not consciously aware of, though she was its most willing victim. His magic wove around her, entangling with her own much like their limbs as he reached forth and drew her close. Who didn't need the passions and adoration of another? Who didn't need a healthy endorphin rush? Who didn't need this?
Olive did not yet know what Tiberius was to her, but the dove would not dare turn him away now.
His words, now akin to dripping honey, continued to speak the absolute best words, and Olive received them with a flick of a sateen lobe and upturn of her cheek, ever the eager receptacle for everything he was willing to give her. She, too, was on fire — and the snow was doing absolutely nothing to cool her off. "Feel it, my bear," the greyscale seraph, a mere doll in his arms, bade the man who so enraptured her, "This is what it feels like to be alive."
To her point, it was in these trance-like states, Olive found, that the veil thinned and her aliveness grew. They did not come often, so the sylph chose to see them as a gift. Tiberius was a gift. This must have been what pulled her from the sun-baked plains, and supplanted her here in the Tundra; to freeze, and then be thawed by the ardor of a man whose name she knew, and nothing more.
The feverish woman flexed her pointed paws against the earth, restlessly lifting her rump several inches from the ground before settling back down again. "Tiberius," she uttered, answering his demand, "I cannot wait," she gasped, absolutely overcome with the desire for him. Her words, heavy with emotion, stuck in her throat. "Take me," was all she could get out. Wordless and breathless, Olive eagerly awaited the titan's next move. Whether he pulled her up to stand or took her where she lay, she could be moulded to his needs easily, like clay beneath his fingers.
Olive did not yet know what Tiberius was to her, but the dove would not dare turn him away now.
His words, now akin to dripping honey, continued to speak the absolute best words, and Olive received them with a flick of a sateen lobe and upturn of her cheek, ever the eager receptacle for everything he was willing to give her. She, too, was on fire — and the snow was doing absolutely nothing to cool her off. "Feel it, my bear," the greyscale seraph, a mere doll in his arms, bade the man who so enraptured her, "This is what it feels like to be alive."
To her point, it was in these trance-like states, Olive found, that the veil thinned and her aliveness grew. They did not come often, so the sylph chose to see them as a gift. Tiberius was a gift. This must have been what pulled her from the sun-baked plains, and supplanted her here in the Tundra; to freeze, and then be thawed by the ardor of a man whose name she knew, and nothing more.
The feverish woman flexed her pointed paws against the earth, restlessly lifting her rump several inches from the ground before settling back down again. "Tiberius," she uttered, answering his demand, "I cannot wait," she gasped, absolutely overcome with the desire for him. Her words, heavy with emotion, stuck in her throat. "Take me," was all she could get out. Wordless and breathless, Olive eagerly awaited the titan's next move. Whether he pulled her up to stand or took her where she lay, she could be moulded to his needs easily, like clay beneath his fingers.
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