[ Lauralae cannot describe how it feels for her, to be bitten, to share her blood with another and see how it fuels them, how much they enjoy it. Each time she has offered herself to a vampire, no matter who it might be, the bliss of it had been overwhelming. The scent of it in the air, the burn of want and desire that floods her, the spark of magic and the way that her own sharp, tiny fangs clash and snap in her own attempt to claim something in return...
It is primal, and wonderful, and she does not think she has ever felt more herself than in moments like this.
The kiss draws her in, twinned with the shared experience, the ease with which they slip into one another and offer it without pause. She trusts him, she loves him, she desires him, a craving that fills some strange void in her, and it feels so perfectly right to do this. They are kin, they are together, they are warmth in each other's arms, and she would do anything in her power to please him.
Armand has her love. She wants to see his joy, wants to taste her blood on his tongue and let her own flick over his fangs to chase the sensation of it.
It's impossible not to lose herself to it then, to bask in the sensation, arching as she rocks against him and lets herself sink into the enjoyment. The sparks of pleasure are only heightened by the way he leans into her, whispers to her, and she nods, breathless as she comes around him, lost in it all.
They can be together for as long as she breathes, and after that, still. Even if she lost her immortality, she can live here. She can live with him, and love him as he deserves. ]
no subject
It is primal, and wonderful, and she does not think she has ever felt more herself than in moments like this.
The kiss draws her in, twinned with the shared experience, the ease with which they slip into one another and offer it without pause. She trusts him, she loves him, she desires him, a craving that fills some strange void in her, and it feels so perfectly right to do this. They are kin, they are together, they are warmth in each other's arms, and she would do anything in her power to please him.
Armand has her love. She wants to see his joy, wants to taste her blood on his tongue and let her own flick over his fangs to chase the sensation of it.
It's impossible not to lose herself to it then, to bask in the sensation, arching as she rocks against him and lets herself sink into the enjoyment. The sparks of pleasure are only heightened by the way he leans into her, whispers to her, and she nods, breathless as she comes around him, lost in it all.
They can be together for as long as she breathes, and after that, still. Even if she lost her immortality, she can live here. She can live with him, and love him as he deserves. ]