<img style="avatar" src="http://i.imgur.com/FXQBglf.png" style="max-width:25%;float:right;margin:0 0 18px 18px;]Throaty moans escaped from start to finish, in time with the pelvic thrusts issued that jostled the Auroun where she was planted on Demagol's lap. It was, in ways she hadn't the capability to describe, electrifying. All that tension was gone, replaced by sweet release that spilled from her ravaged cunt to his groin. Her insides were painted with his load, eager muscles gripping and tense where they engulfed the Mandalorian's cock greedily. Rhailo needed him like she needed air; like the grass demanded the sun if it was meant to grow. To flourish. She was changing in his care, that attitude of hers ever so slightly shifting from one of disregard to something resembling general interest. Her investment in a future the two were slowly building on the shaky foundation his paying off her contract offered them. Amid burden and hardship, there was more to be sought after, and more to be found.
A glimpse of devotion.
Rhailo's whimpered sounds were pleas when she was forced to grind at the base of the male's sex, seated so his girth pulsed and thrummed in the tight confines of her dripping orifice. Every drop was hers. Every word was hers. Every hiss and groan and tensing series of guided movements, all related to and made for her. That was the first and only time Rhailo felt so secure in someone else's arms, held tight to the Mandalorian's chest while whispered sounds ushered between their two figures. A set of digits rose to meet her throat, and while they tightened, she blinked teary oculars the shade of ivory at her captor. Her mouth gaped slightly in muted protest, her noises shifting to strangled gasps and desperate attempts at air. Yet in this place of vulnerability, the woman rocked her hips to enhance her pleasure, constricting inner walls hugging around Demagol's cock possessively as though she had commandeered it for her own needs.
One didn't question how their lust might be sated. Not if they had any intention of continuing to satisfy their cravings, at least.
What had been said in the heat of the moment now returned full circle, the Auroun's neck released just enough to allow those gasps for air room to happen. She was given permission the breath while his soft spoken message made her blush. Her cheeks wore color beneath the strain of blood rising to the surface as response to his choking. Perhaps it was embarrassment, or something similar in fashion. Rhailo thought of it more as her flattered sense of acceptance. Yes, he could be her Daddy. Yes, he owned her contract. Yes, Demagol deserved to hear her acknowledge his words. Slowly, and carefully, a soft admittance was given from where she panted quietly towards the hunter. "Daddy." Exactly as it was, her pigmentless lashes blinked several times as residual tears were shed, giving her that sort of appeal one wore when they were helpless. She knew as well as he did that her fragility was appreciated. Yearned after at times, as if there was no denying his thirst for dominance was attracted to her hunger to be disciplined.
And so the pair sat together in the mess they made of the bed that was now technically shared.
Rhailo couldn't help leaning her features inwards as a small peck was given to the tip of Demagol's nose. It couldn't be misconstrued as sexual or enticing in any regard, but it was genuine. The affection was playful and direct, and though Rhailo thought over countless ways she could reply to the winded hunter, nothing sounded quite so sincere as the message she settled on sharing. "I like when you're thinking of me." A familiar smirk crossed her lips, her tongue peeking out enough to graze the underside of her incisors before prodding one of her canines. "You let me make a mess of your clean sheets." Both of her hands ascended to cup the male's features as she moved in further; close enough to brush his lips with her own through the tangle of thoughts. "Do you feel better now?" The way she asked was borderline cocky, but it also hinted at her curiosity. She wanted to know how he felt because despite their previous activities and the nature of said act, she knew that wasn't always enough.
In this vein of logic, Rhailo wanted to be enough for him. Not just a stress ball Demagol squeezed when things seemed exceedingly difficult. No. Instead, she hoped he would see her as more. Much more. What that entailed was something the Auroun wasn't thoroughly versed in, but she would learn with Demagol if that was an option. If not, she would find a way to cope on her own, without assistance. It had only been two days, after all- though these two days proved more compelling and provocative than any she could recall experiencing. What had once been a pastime meant to dwindle the hours on drunken nights out now felt personal. Rhailo felt connected, and it scared her, especially when Demagol was receptive to that private need she harbored. Was he looking to have her wholly, or was this a physical commitment without true merit? Whether Rhailo admitted it or not, she was a woman stitched together by a delicate tapestry of flaws. They all fed into one another, and to pluck an individual out of place could send the rest unraveling in a detrimental display of wasted potential.
"I'm sleepy." And with little more than a nod following, the Auroun draped her pale physique, with it's eerie illumination embedded in the skin, against her tanned counterpart. Her lips were featherlight at his pulse, and though she had more to say, there was time taken to taste sweat stained skin. Her touch was always cautious, and how she held him related to what she was. A being of inhuman radiance and ethereal caresses, with a body meant for carnal deeds, was not rough. Not even in the presence of one so violent, even when she smelled like him. In the wake of their union, Rhailo carried Demagol's scent just as noticeably as there were marks and marring done by his teeth. How proud she was of this fact with her expression hidden from the Mandalorian, smugness barely detectable in her tone as she mentioned offhandedly, "You need sleep, Daddy. If you don't sleep, I'll just ask you questions all night..."
A glimpse of devotion.
Rhailo's whimpered sounds were pleas when she was forced to grind at the base of the male's sex, seated so his girth pulsed and thrummed in the tight confines of her dripping orifice. Every drop was hers. Every word was hers. Every hiss and groan and tensing series of guided movements, all related to and made for her. That was the first and only time Rhailo felt so secure in someone else's arms, held tight to the Mandalorian's chest while whispered sounds ushered between their two figures. A set of digits rose to meet her throat, and while they tightened, she blinked teary oculars the shade of ivory at her captor. Her mouth gaped slightly in muted protest, her noises shifting to strangled gasps and desperate attempts at air. Yet in this place of vulnerability, the woman rocked her hips to enhance her pleasure, constricting inner walls hugging around Demagol's cock possessively as though she had commandeered it for her own needs.
One didn't question how their lust might be sated. Not if they had any intention of continuing to satisfy their cravings, at least.
What had been said in the heat of the moment now returned full circle, the Auroun's neck released just enough to allow those gasps for air room to happen. She was given permission the breath while his soft spoken message made her blush. Her cheeks wore color beneath the strain of blood rising to the surface as response to his choking. Perhaps it was embarrassment, or something similar in fashion. Rhailo thought of it more as her flattered sense of acceptance. Yes, he could be her Daddy. Yes, he owned her contract. Yes, Demagol deserved to hear her acknowledge his words. Slowly, and carefully, a soft admittance was given from where she panted quietly towards the hunter. "Daddy." Exactly as it was, her pigmentless lashes blinked several times as residual tears were shed, giving her that sort of appeal one wore when they were helpless. She knew as well as he did that her fragility was appreciated. Yearned after at times, as if there was no denying his thirst for dominance was attracted to her hunger to be disciplined.
And so the pair sat together in the mess they made of the bed that was now technically shared.
Rhailo couldn't help leaning her features inwards as a small peck was given to the tip of Demagol's nose. It couldn't be misconstrued as sexual or enticing in any regard, but it was genuine. The affection was playful and direct, and though Rhailo thought over countless ways she could reply to the winded hunter, nothing sounded quite so sincere as the message she settled on sharing. "I like when you're thinking of me." A familiar smirk crossed her lips, her tongue peeking out enough to graze the underside of her incisors before prodding one of her canines. "You let me make a mess of your clean sheets." Both of her hands ascended to cup the male's features as she moved in further; close enough to brush his lips with her own through the tangle of thoughts. "Do you feel better now?" The way she asked was borderline cocky, but it also hinted at her curiosity. She wanted to know how he felt because despite their previous activities and the nature of said act, she knew that wasn't always enough.
In this vein of logic, Rhailo wanted to be enough for him. Not just a stress ball Demagol squeezed when things seemed exceedingly difficult. No. Instead, she hoped he would see her as more. Much more. What that entailed was something the Auroun wasn't thoroughly versed in, but she would learn with Demagol if that was an option. If not, she would find a way to cope on her own, without assistance. It had only been two days, after all- though these two days proved more compelling and provocative than any she could recall experiencing. What had once been a pastime meant to dwindle the hours on drunken nights out now felt personal. Rhailo felt connected, and it scared her, especially when Demagol was receptive to that private need she harbored. Was he looking to have her wholly, or was this a physical commitment without true merit? Whether Rhailo admitted it or not, she was a woman stitched together by a delicate tapestry of flaws. They all fed into one another, and to pluck an individual out of place could send the rest unraveling in a detrimental display of wasted potential.
"I'm sleepy." And with little more than a nod following, the Auroun draped her pale physique, with it's eerie illumination embedded in the skin, against her tanned counterpart. Her lips were featherlight at his pulse, and though she had more to say, there was time taken to taste sweat stained skin. Her touch was always cautious, and how she held him related to what she was. A being of inhuman radiance and ethereal caresses, with a body meant for carnal deeds, was not rough. Not even in the presence of one so violent, even when she smelled like him. In the wake of their union, Rhailo carried Demagol's scent just as noticeably as there were marks and marring done by his teeth. How proud she was of this fact with her expression hidden from the Mandalorian, smugness barely detectable in her tone as she mentioned offhandedly, "You need sleep, Daddy. If you don't sleep, I'll just ask you questions all night..."
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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