Post by Cassus on Jul 9, 2012 21:59:50 GMT -5
(Just assume all post on this profile are mature gdi.)
--
She knows he is there before maybe he does.
It's in the arms of a ever present familiar that she lingers. It's a woman -- Cassus sexual preference ever fluctuating -- and she's generous and offering and everything the monster will never be. She relishes that night in violence. She spends hour after hour of making the girl scream first in lust, then terror, before she's sitting back against headboard. Head tilted backwards breathlessly, staring like a Queen with a toppled crown. Fingers sticky and gooey with a melodramatic combination of things. It's after a slow deliberate moment, eyes flashing white. That leviathan lifts slender fingers to plump lips and plucks them between.
She thinks of a million ways she's going to kill a man. She thinks of the eons she's been waiting to do it. She imagines this is him gathering in saliva, iron, and arousal beneath her tongue.
She doesnt feel sorry for the woman, strewn across in random bits and pieces. Unable to keep up with a hurricane of wrath, lust, and jealousy. She only wishes, acutely, it'd been someone else she'd propped between. It'd been someone more than a faceless pretty woman of a crowd. More than some lonely single mother who drank away her responsibilities and fucked away her loneliness.
Truth is, maybe everyone is lonely.
But she isnt anymore.
In theory.
So here she waits for him. Sitting snake eyed and bloodied against some human's bed board. A smirk that that is highlighted with smarmy arrogance. And eyes that are as black as colbalt.
"Et tunc lucem."
She says, as flat and dark as her native land.
--
She knows he is there before maybe he does.
It's in the arms of a ever present familiar that she lingers. It's a woman -- Cassus sexual preference ever fluctuating -- and she's generous and offering and everything the monster will never be. She relishes that night in violence. She spends hour after hour of making the girl scream first in lust, then terror, before she's sitting back against headboard. Head tilted backwards breathlessly, staring like a Queen with a toppled crown. Fingers sticky and gooey with a melodramatic combination of things. It's after a slow deliberate moment, eyes flashing white. That leviathan lifts slender fingers to plump lips and plucks them between.
She thinks of a million ways she's going to kill a man. She thinks of the eons she's been waiting to do it. She imagines this is him gathering in saliva, iron, and arousal beneath her tongue.
She doesnt feel sorry for the woman, strewn across in random bits and pieces. Unable to keep up with a hurricane of wrath, lust, and jealousy. She only wishes, acutely, it'd been someone else she'd propped between. It'd been someone more than a faceless pretty woman of a crowd. More than some lonely single mother who drank away her responsibilities and fucked away her loneliness.
Truth is, maybe everyone is lonely.
But she isnt anymore.
In theory.
So here she waits for him. Sitting snake eyed and bloodied against some human's bed board. A smirk that that is highlighted with smarmy arrogance. And eyes that are as black as colbalt.
"Et tunc lucem."
She says, as flat and dark as her native land.