Valentine    

D'Amore    

The Rose

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of intoxication
Stumbling into the Mire, she is gorged full on an endless concoction of fermented fruits; hungering, Valentine lurches forwards. A air of lust wafts its way over her. Stalking, prowling, she steps foot into an empty den.

Gluttony. It takes its hold upon her, then. More, more, more. She craves more. Power, love, attention – she will have it all. The world spins fast in a crazed cycle, fueled evermore by her own insatiability.

Grunting, huffing, she calls for @Luther ♔ from the foot of her bed; her body shifts to sprawl out in a sudden burst of impatience, and, oh, how she yearns. Yearning, thirsting, all for him. Luther, Luther, Luther, damn him so.

Tonight, he would play by her rules – whether or not he liked it. Just this once, she would lick the heel of authority, and she would revel in the savageness of its ichor and drown beneath it.

Just the tiniest sample of power-lust, it is all she craves.

“Come to me…”

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of sexual themes & intercourse while intoxicated.

He does not intend to give his nightly attention to @Valentine this fine winter evening, and yet when she calls for him so... thirstily he cannot turn her away. And why would he? His lust knew no bounds, his greedy desire needed no drink to rear its ugly head, and he was always so very keen on satisfying his women, especially when it came to his wife.

Yes, she may not have his favor after Bjorn's death, and yet he was a simple man. Broken relationships may be fixed with a moderate amount of debauchery. And with full-on debauchery, they could become stronger.

That was, of course, his humble opinion.

He traverses the paths to her chambers, heat rising in his loins as quickly as that. It did not take much to turn him on.

"Come to me..."

He hears the whisper just outside her door, cracking it open to slip into her room. "How odd," it is dark, and yet his voice betrays a self-serving grin. "Who do you think you are to call on your King so boldly, hmm?" He taunted, eyeing her as he stepped closer. Someone will need to be punished for her insolence.

Valentine    

D'Amore    

The Rose

TRIGGER WARNING!
This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of sexual themes

It does not take long for him to arrive, but was that truly a shock?

For him, she is tamed – malleable, all he could ever want. In the shrill deep of the night, his entrance is only announced by the resonance of his breathing and the soft thudding of his steps. At the sound of it all, Valentine cannot help but to roll over: laying flat upon her back, with her vulnerable belly straight in the air.

Trust. Submission. Want.

It is a symbol of all three.

Writhing and wriggling beneath him, she subconsciously releases a deep purr at the sound of his voice. “Yours...”

“Yours, yours, yours” The disparity in her voice is hardly hidden. Closing her eyes tight, her head rolls gently across the floor. “@Luther ♔, make me yours. Tell me I am only  yours. Tell me...” That it's only me.

“Please,” a soft whine escapes her, and Valentine finds herself satiated with her little burst of authority. The familiarity of their dynamics holds her tight against the floor, yet she finds it not within her to complain. Only to covet  the feeling.

This content might touch on topics that are sensitive or triggering for some readers. Trigger Warning for mentions of sexual themes & intercourse while intoxicated.

She is like clay in his hands when he reaches down to caress her plush rose pelt, to press into her familiar softness and relish the power that he holds over her with just his fingertips. A low growl escapes his throat as Luther presses onward, so he may hang above her, so they may be closer than ever. He was teasing, of course, always teasing... without doubt he enjoyed toying with her, and yet his own lust would not allow him to do so for long.

He is but a man.

"Mine, ja," his lips seek to caress her neck and the curve of her jawline up to her ear. "You are," Only mine. And while she was not the only woman he laid with, he would make certain that tonight she felt as if that was the case. She will never slip free from his grip, never would he let her out of his sight again. Selfishness and pure savagery drives his teeth to press into her earlobe - a love bite, but not soft. "Forever." Until death do us part - you will never leave. He reached for her, so he may try and grasp her scruff before joining them together.

fade to black

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