drabble: "in thrall"
Title: In Thrall
Rating: M
Pairing: GhiraFi
Word Count: hahahahahha. ha.
Summary: Even when they are one, she eludes him.
Notes: The title seriously needs some work. Inspired by conversations with
unwritten_icons.
Warnings: Implicit sex.
She glows softly against the starless expanse of sky in their realm, shining amongst the clouds. Slim waist. Long legs. Enticing curve of the neck. Her hips aren't very pronounced, and her breasts are not large, but he doesn't mind. Her full soft lips haven't moved an inch in spite of her nakedness.
O lovely fey Fi. That slight girlish curve of yours is so alluring.
Circling around her slowly, taking in the arch of her back, the cool aura coming off of her. Her body shines with all the slick grace of melted sapphire. His long tongue licking his dry lips. How do you taste. I want to know. I want you entirely.
Tackling Fi to the floor, tongue and hands exploring. He can feel the ancient magic pulsating within her, giving her life. He kisses her with a rough passion, trying to taste that magic, trying to find the way to her heart. She makes no sounds, and it's infuriating. Even when they are one, her face is that pretty mask of dollish neutrality. He taunts and coos and grunts and groans and whispers — he shows her everything, and she shows him nothing.
Lying on his side, feeling empty and frustrated. Fi presses her chilled body against his own. Her breath is cooling against his ear. So tangible, so within his grasp. Mocking him in her own little way — she is always mocking him without knowing it. The ghostly breeze of her breath baiting him with a cold hand, and he knows he will fall for it and chase after a prize that will slip out of his grasp at the last second. He always does.
Before he can even move, Fi's wintry, half-curved body is gone. She lies a ways from him, just out of his reach.
If he stretches and pulls, he can touch her. All he has to do is reach, because she's that close. His fingers curl in determination. He will attain her. All he has to do is reach out and seize her, and then she would be his. His fingertips ghosting over her arm — I will win. Someday, I will win your love — someday you will need me.
(Reaching is as far as he will ever go.)
Author's Note: This is still in progress. Check out the word count filler.
I just now realized I have no GhiraFi icons. ):
Rating: M
Pairing: GhiraFi
Word Count: hahahahahha. ha.
Summary: Even when they are one, she eludes him.
Notes: The title seriously needs some work. Inspired by conversations with
unwritten_icons.Warnings: Implicit sex.
She glows softly against the starless expanse of sky in their realm, shining amongst the clouds. Slim waist. Long legs. Enticing curve of the neck. Her hips aren't very pronounced, and her breasts are not large, but he doesn't mind. Her full soft lips haven't moved an inch in spite of her nakedness.
O lovely fey Fi. That slight girlish curve of yours is so alluring.
Circling around her slowly, taking in the arch of her back, the cool aura coming off of her. Her body shines with all the slick grace of melted sapphire. His long tongue licking his dry lips. How do you taste. I want to know. I want you entirely.
Tackling Fi to the floor, tongue and hands exploring. He can feel the ancient magic pulsating within her, giving her life. He kisses her with a rough passion, trying to taste that magic, trying to find the way to her heart. She makes no sounds, and it's infuriating. Even when they are one, her face is that pretty mask of dollish neutrality. He taunts and coos and grunts and groans and whispers — he shows her everything, and she shows him nothing.
Lying on his side, feeling empty and frustrated. Fi presses her chilled body against his own. Her breath is cooling against his ear. So tangible, so within his grasp. Mocking him in her own little way — she is always mocking him without knowing it. The ghostly breeze of her breath baiting him with a cold hand, and he knows he will fall for it and chase after a prize that will slip out of his grasp at the last second. He always does.
Before he can even move, Fi's wintry, half-curved body is gone. She lies a ways from him, just out of his reach.
If he stretches and pulls, he can touch her. All he has to do is reach, because she's that close. His fingers curl in determination. He will attain her. All he has to do is reach out and seize her, and then she would be his. His fingertips ghosting over her arm — I will win. Someday, I will win your love — someday you will need me.
(Reaching is as far as he will ever go.)
Author's Note: This is still in progress. Check out the word count filler.
I just now realized I have no GhiraFi icons. ):