<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]It had been in Rhailo's experience that men were, in some ways, more affectionate than women. More advantageous with their advances, or simply less self conscious about how they were perceived. Demagol didn't seem to care how Rhailo saw him, his strength and build on display as their flesh met with messy, grandiose slaps. Fueled by ancient hungers modern society had no appreciation for; it was what it was. An anomaly, much as the Auroun were. The sort of situation that, despite all possible obstacles, barreled into existence on a tide of desire neither involved could overcome. A show of weakness, perhaps. It made the woman prickle, her skin hot and energized with unfamiliar static that teased her nerves and brought a rough moan from her lips. The Mandalorian would taste how she struggled not to satisfy every urge he expressed, fighting with what little willpower remained in her fatigued frame.
She wouldn't be dragged into his fantasies so quickly. No. There was still resistance. Conflict in the woman. But Gods, his body was so extraordinarily attuned to their shared movements, forcing the continued meeting of two thirsty egos. Not that Rhailo would admit the burning in her stomach pitted between anxiety and accumulated friction. It just continued to grow, manifesting into the swelling rise of impending ecstasy. Without a means to stop him, there was no stemming the sounds that escaped her. At times, their kiss could mask the pleasure, but it was unrelenting. The Auroun wanted to moan for him, to encourage the driving of his captured hips against splayed thighs. Her own hips were shameless, ecstatic to mesh at the sides of his waist when his cock was based in tangling rapture. Nothing prepared the woman for all this fiery aggression, but she was feeding from it; giving herself too much slack.
Sliding against the wall in her travels, Rhailo flickered open her gaze mid kiss and watched him through hooded lids. She could see fucking him again. Under different circumstances, different rules. There was a future in her eyes that seemed to blindly admit too much in the moment. Her bottom lip quivered, and instinctively, she bit it to stifle whimpers he didn't need to hear. Another futile effort on her part when Demagol smashed their mouths into a bruising mess of adoration. It was just too much. Skilled digits dug into the cheek of her ass to keep the Auroun hoisted, his cock between her folds making constant demand that she spread and give passage to his girth. Everything blurred through her narrowed vision, and a sense of dizziness encroached over her sensibilities. The water splashed soaked hair, drowning her companion while droplets pinged off in her direction.
Rhailo detached herself in the moment to focus. All of her attention was settled in the split he occupied, the steady thrumming pulse of his member, where slick walls rippled to mold. Form fitting. She must have felt like she was made to take every inch of his carnal desires, and in a way, Rhailo was convinced she hadn't felt this way before. Did she really deserve it? In any sense, she wasn't of sound mind to argue her worth-- he held her tight now. Once more, weightless. The hands massaging his scalp pulled hair while the longing in her loins seemed to reach it's precipice. There was no way he could hold her in such a fashion and not know what it would do to her libido; his length was drenched by her pent up impulses.
One did well not to try and fight the inevitable, after all.
Lashes flickered closed, but continued to bat idly against moist cheeks. A flush rose over the skin of her face, her lips parting as a weak groan stole from marred throat. Such a sound could only evolve, change to adapt when her torso tightened and her breasts heaved against the carved flesh of his chest. Her back arched hard into the arm about her figure. Inside was locking and grinding to a pleasure induced halt, reacting as if it could contain the body of his cock to unleash oncoming spasms of undulating muscles. There was no avoiding the climax she experienced; it wouldn't be ignored. Throwing her head back to howl, words could be picked out through the scream, uttered for no one but the Mandalorian. "O-oh god, I'm gonna cum..." And with that, Rhailo was silenced just long enough to hit the surface of her orgasm. Diving in, the plunge left her breathless.
Arms refused to leave Demagol's shoulders, hugging him with more emotion than he had garnered from his captive throughout their evening outside the hotel room. Just wanting to feel as much of his heat against her own as was possible, Rhailo was weak and desperate. Begging with the squeezing of her coated insides, pleading with the whispered pants she could manage through parted maw. The legs corded around his backside did everything in their power to still him just long enough to focus on her climax. To shift his interests to the way her warm juices seeped along the head of his cock, sincere as they were unavoidably coaxed from the Auroun. Shaking, quaking, and writhing in her state, nothing said satisfaction like being worshiped by another, and Rhailo felt entirely entitled to that submerging lust. No thoughts, nor feelings outside of the sensations radiating from her filled hole.
Just as it was. Just as it should be.
Demagol would be left with her hooked embrace where she had enough trust in her captor that she could marvel in her passion without fear of falling. That possessive, somewhat protective hold the male kept Rhailo in was worth the exertion. There was no sensation she kept hidden from him in this vulnerable state. If this was any sort of game, the woman lost to his affections, and seemed all too happy to taste defeat where their tongues once more met. Her kisses were aimless, uncontrolled, just the barest twirls of her tongue to lap at his between cries. Euphoric for the time being, free from all those panicked thoughts that otherwise buzzed in her head like a hive of angry bees. Isn't that what he wanted from her? Submission. As a shapely, shuddering collection of overly sensitive nerve endings, Rhailo fit the bill.
At least for now.
She wouldn't be dragged into his fantasies so quickly. No. There was still resistance. Conflict in the woman. But Gods, his body was so extraordinarily attuned to their shared movements, forcing the continued meeting of two thirsty egos. Not that Rhailo would admit the burning in her stomach pitted between anxiety and accumulated friction. It just continued to grow, manifesting into the swelling rise of impending ecstasy. Without a means to stop him, there was no stemming the sounds that escaped her. At times, their kiss could mask the pleasure, but it was unrelenting. The Auroun wanted to moan for him, to encourage the driving of his captured hips against splayed thighs. Her own hips were shameless, ecstatic to mesh at the sides of his waist when his cock was based in tangling rapture. Nothing prepared the woman for all this fiery aggression, but she was feeding from it; giving herself too much slack.
Sliding against the wall in her travels, Rhailo flickered open her gaze mid kiss and watched him through hooded lids. She could see fucking him again. Under different circumstances, different rules. There was a future in her eyes that seemed to blindly admit too much in the moment. Her bottom lip quivered, and instinctively, she bit it to stifle whimpers he didn't need to hear. Another futile effort on her part when Demagol smashed their mouths into a bruising mess of adoration. It was just too much. Skilled digits dug into the cheek of her ass to keep the Auroun hoisted, his cock between her folds making constant demand that she spread and give passage to his girth. Everything blurred through her narrowed vision, and a sense of dizziness encroached over her sensibilities. The water splashed soaked hair, drowning her companion while droplets pinged off in her direction.
Rhailo detached herself in the moment to focus. All of her attention was settled in the split he occupied, the steady thrumming pulse of his member, where slick walls rippled to mold. Form fitting. She must have felt like she was made to take every inch of his carnal desires, and in a way, Rhailo was convinced she hadn't felt this way before. Did she really deserve it? In any sense, she wasn't of sound mind to argue her worth-- he held her tight now. Once more, weightless. The hands massaging his scalp pulled hair while the longing in her loins seemed to reach it's precipice. There was no way he could hold her in such a fashion and not know what it would do to her libido; his length was drenched by her pent up impulses.
One did well not to try and fight the inevitable, after all.
Lashes flickered closed, but continued to bat idly against moist cheeks. A flush rose over the skin of her face, her lips parting as a weak groan stole from marred throat. Such a sound could only evolve, change to adapt when her torso tightened and her breasts heaved against the carved flesh of his chest. Her back arched hard into the arm about her figure. Inside was locking and grinding to a pleasure induced halt, reacting as if it could contain the body of his cock to unleash oncoming spasms of undulating muscles. There was no avoiding the climax she experienced; it wouldn't be ignored. Throwing her head back to howl, words could be picked out through the scream, uttered for no one but the Mandalorian. "O-oh god, I'm gonna cum..." And with that, Rhailo was silenced just long enough to hit the surface of her orgasm. Diving in, the plunge left her breathless.
Arms refused to leave Demagol's shoulders, hugging him with more emotion than he had garnered from his captive throughout their evening outside the hotel room. Just wanting to feel as much of his heat against her own as was possible, Rhailo was weak and desperate. Begging with the squeezing of her coated insides, pleading with the whispered pants she could manage through parted maw. The legs corded around his backside did everything in their power to still him just long enough to focus on her climax. To shift his interests to the way her warm juices seeped along the head of his cock, sincere as they were unavoidably coaxed from the Auroun. Shaking, quaking, and writhing in her state, nothing said satisfaction like being worshiped by another, and Rhailo felt entirely entitled to that submerging lust. No thoughts, nor feelings outside of the sensations radiating from her filled hole.
Just as it was. Just as it should be.
Demagol would be left with her hooked embrace where she had enough trust in her captor that she could marvel in her passion without fear of falling. That possessive, somewhat protective hold the male kept Rhailo in was worth the exertion. There was no sensation she kept hidden from him in this vulnerable state. If this was any sort of game, the woman lost to his affections, and seemed all too happy to taste defeat where their tongues once more met. Her kisses were aimless, uncontrolled, just the barest twirls of her tongue to lap at his between cries. Euphoric for the time being, free from all those panicked thoughts that otherwise buzzed in her head like a hive of angry bees. Isn't that what he wanted from her? Submission. As a shapely, shuddering collection of overly sensitive nerve endings, Rhailo fit the bill.
At least for now.
BDRP Admin. Writer. Villain. Personal Blog.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
I tried running from the memory and the mourning.
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