Heart hammering in his chest, and lungs screaming, he breaks away from her with a low, possessive growl, kissing his way along the inside of her thigh as he pulls in a shaking, hungry breath of air. Her scent is intoxicating and dizzying, her energy coursing over him like a persistent ripple in an endless pool.
(Skellig may not be a 'mortal' by the common definition of the word, but he does still require oxygen on a routine basis, a fact of which his lungs tend to have to remind him of. Something in his mind tells him: breathe, my love. Her voice?)
"Never can get enough of you," he pants against her skin, blinking spots from his vision as he works his lips across everywhere he can reach on her thigh, tipping his head into her hands that are still buried in his hair. She wants more of him, and he'll give it to her...but he has to breathe. breathe "Enough of your touch. Of your taste..."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2024-03-24 12:45 pm (UTC)(Skellig may not be a 'mortal' by the common definition of the word, but he does still require oxygen on a routine basis, a fact of which his lungs tend to have to remind him of. Something in his mind tells him: breathe, my love. Her voice?)
"Never can get enough of you," he pants against her skin, blinking spots from his vision as he works his lips across everywhere he can reach on her thigh, tipping his head into her hands that are still buried in his hair. She wants more of him, and he'll give it to her...but he has to breathe. breathe "Enough of your touch. Of your taste..."