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Post by Mama D.N. and new baby Jareth. on Oct 16, 2009 13:36:34 GMT -5
As the name says.
This thread is for sensual, mature-themed snippets, so we know there is a place for them. I thought I'd slip this little beauty in here so sensual things don't accidentally end up in the other snippet threads (either mine or anyone else's).
The rules of tact are encouraged for Lily and our beloved site's sake...please avoid using vulgar sexual words in here. Keep your excerpts wrapped in sensuality...it will challenge you to open your words to the simmering glow of dusk rather than the obtrusive glare of a neon light.
This, as the other threads are, is for that which pleases.
~Mme. D.N. Saint Augustin
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Post by Mama D.N. and new baby Jareth. on Oct 16, 2009 19:45:15 GMT -5
Moye sat perched in front of Saya, facing away from her, his pale, coarsely-braided hair trailing down his back. 'I am not sure of this, Saya,' he whispered. 'I am not certain of anything. All I know is that if you come home to your father dead, I will lose my life as well....'
'You were never threatened with this,' she pointed out.
Moye slumped further into a ball. 'I would slay myself if anything were to happen to you...,' he managed to murmur. 'I still adore you, Saya. You were my soul...but now you are my very existence. If you call my name, I will answer, with the joyful heart of the freed captive...if you cry, I will kiss your tears and bear the cross of your pain upon my shoulders....'
Saya turned away, her cheeks warming.
'M... Moye...,' she stumbled. 'Moye...I....' She swiveled her head to his direction, and met glittering malachite eyes with her royal blue. His eyes...They were precious jade, boundless, verdant caverns of fertility....
'Oh, Moye...,' she breathed, drawing close to him. 'Moye...I'm....'
'I'm so sorry, Saya...,' he mournfully sighed for his stupidity, his lips amorously moist and welcoming. He advanced over the bedcovers to her, one hand reaching outward.
Saya's eyelids fluttered closed as his fingers whispered over her cheek. Soft and yet firm, silky and yet raspy.... The warmth of his hand cupping her face, it was her heart in his gentle hold. She needed to be close to him once more....
'Moye...,' she twittered delicately. Her shoulders shifted backward, her muscles recumbent.
His hands—both of them—ghosted fingers over her cheeks. 'I love you, Saya. If we were to die here and never return to the West, I would want the last word on my lips to be your name....'
'And yours on mine,' she ardently promised. 'Oh, oh Moye.... I'm so frightened.... Protect me...let me know you are for me and no one else....'
'I am ever only for you, and you are mine,' Moye promised. 'I will let no one else have you, will allow no one else to turn my eye from your beauty...the enemy will have to slay me before they will even reach you....'
His arms slowly descended down her back, caressing her shuddering body. Gradually her shivers stilled, then stopped, and her head tilted back sweetly, her hazelnut hair tumbling down her shoulders. She licked her lips imploringly; he met them with his own, kissing and nibbling with need.
'Oh...oh.' She wilted delicately to the bedcovers. 'Moye...Moye, Moye....'
Moye hovered over her, drinking in her splendor with warmly glistening eyes, his cheeks hot as firebrands. 'I...I need you,' he entreated, his worn desert trousers stretched over his thighs, revealing the curve of him, his straining need for her. 'Oh...oh, Saya..., I swear I could never, never live without you....'
'Nor I..., without you...,' she breathed. 'Moye...Moye, come to me, deny me no longer the joy I need from you..., the joy I've always needed....'
She gently tugged him down to her, her tongue venturing between his parted lips. His lapped back urgently, licking, dancing, his hands boldly cupping her breasts. This...this had been what she'd desired so long from Moye..., all the years they'd waited for each other, the women who had sought him, the men who had sought her...neither had given any quarter, neither had accepted any..., until now....
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