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With her lips grazing his neck and her hand wandering beneath his chiton, Stephanos was even more enticed by the idea of never leaving the beach. ”So, prince Stephanos of Mikaelidas,” She teased. ”What would two such as us, beneath the stars, do with morals as low as ours?”
“Oh with low morals,” he began, thinking quick. “We could get up to any number of things.” Turning so that they were chest to chest, he took to untwisting her hair, wanting it free about her. The silver of the chains shone bright against the blue of the moon. “I could steal these, for example,” he had snaked one out of her hair already, and grinned, holding it up, dangling for her to try and jump for. One of his hands lay splayed on the low curve of her back, resting just on the top of her butt. Using this hold to keep her against him, he could make it so that either she couldn’t jump high enough to get the chain, or keep them pressed together and moving backwards towards the grasses so that they could tumble into those if she did manage to get close enough.
When they were done with the keep away game, which he kept going for nearly as long as she’d let him, making moves to steal the other chains in her hair, he tilted his head and caught her in a kiss, perfectly willing not to talk much for a while. Slowly, he lowered the hand that held the chain and wrapped it around her, walking her ever backwards towards the long sea grasses waving softly at the base of a sand dune. The shafts of grass were shimmering in silver and shadow with every soft, salty breeze off the sea. The ocean breathed in and out in hushed whispers along the curving line of the beach.
He’d set the jug of wine somewhere and now he wasn’t entirely sure where it was and he pulled away from her lips just enough to ask her if they’d lost it. Nothing added to a night on the beach like wine. Unless she was holding it, of course, but he hadn’t exactly been paying much attention to where her hands were so much as his own. Her dress was already short and getting shorter all the while as he inched the fabric up and up, intending to have her perfectly naked before long.
Further up the beach, a couple appeared to have the same idea. They did not come near to the place that Ana and Stepanos were, but he could hear the high pitched giggle of the lady and the low, indistinct rumbling of the man she was with. He looked over and saw their shadowed forms twisted together in much the same way he and Ana were for the moment. Once they got to the grasses, though, they’d be invisible, even if someone passed right next to them.
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With her lips grazing his neck and her hand wandering beneath his chiton, Stephanos was even more enticed by the idea of never leaving the beach. ”So, prince Stephanos of Mikaelidas,” She teased. ”What would two such as us, beneath the stars, do with morals as low as ours?”
“Oh with low morals,” he began, thinking quick. “We could get up to any number of things.” Turning so that they were chest to chest, he took to untwisting her hair, wanting it free about her. The silver of the chains shone bright against the blue of the moon. “I could steal these, for example,” he had snaked one out of her hair already, and grinned, holding it up, dangling for her to try and jump for. One of his hands lay splayed on the low curve of her back, resting just on the top of her butt. Using this hold to keep her against him, he could make it so that either she couldn’t jump high enough to get the chain, or keep them pressed together and moving backwards towards the grasses so that they could tumble into those if she did manage to get close enough.
When they were done with the keep away game, which he kept going for nearly as long as she’d let him, making moves to steal the other chains in her hair, he tilted his head and caught her in a kiss, perfectly willing not to talk much for a while. Slowly, he lowered the hand that held the chain and wrapped it around her, walking her ever backwards towards the long sea grasses waving softly at the base of a sand dune. The shafts of grass were shimmering in silver and shadow with every soft, salty breeze off the sea. The ocean breathed in and out in hushed whispers along the curving line of the beach.
He’d set the jug of wine somewhere and now he wasn’t entirely sure where it was and he pulled away from her lips just enough to ask her if they’d lost it. Nothing added to a night on the beach like wine. Unless she was holding it, of course, but he hadn’t exactly been paying much attention to where her hands were so much as his own. Her dress was already short and getting shorter all the while as he inched the fabric up and up, intending to have her perfectly naked before long.
Further up the beach, a couple appeared to have the same idea. They did not come near to the place that Ana and Stepanos were, but he could hear the high pitched giggle of the lady and the low, indistinct rumbling of the man she was with. He looked over and saw their shadowed forms twisted together in much the same way he and Ana were for the moment. Once they got to the grasses, though, they’d be invisible, even if someone passed right next to them.
With her lips grazing his neck and her hand wandering beneath his chiton, Stephanos was even more enticed by the idea of never leaving the beach. ”So, prince Stephanos of Mikaelidas,” She teased. ”What would two such as us, beneath the stars, do with morals as low as ours?”
“Oh with low morals,” he began, thinking quick. “We could get up to any number of things.” Turning so that they were chest to chest, he took to untwisting her hair, wanting it free about her. The silver of the chains shone bright against the blue of the moon. “I could steal these, for example,” he had snaked one out of her hair already, and grinned, holding it up, dangling for her to try and jump for. One of his hands lay splayed on the low curve of her back, resting just on the top of her butt. Using this hold to keep her against him, he could make it so that either she couldn’t jump high enough to get the chain, or keep them pressed together and moving backwards towards the grasses so that they could tumble into those if she did manage to get close enough.
When they were done with the keep away game, which he kept going for nearly as long as she’d let him, making moves to steal the other chains in her hair, he tilted his head and caught her in a kiss, perfectly willing not to talk much for a while. Slowly, he lowered the hand that held the chain and wrapped it around her, walking her ever backwards towards the long sea grasses waving softly at the base of a sand dune. The shafts of grass were shimmering in silver and shadow with every soft, salty breeze off the sea. The ocean breathed in and out in hushed whispers along the curving line of the beach.
He’d set the jug of wine somewhere and now he wasn’t entirely sure where it was and he pulled away from her lips just enough to ask her if they’d lost it. Nothing added to a night on the beach like wine. Unless she was holding it, of course, but he hadn’t exactly been paying much attention to where her hands were so much as his own. Her dress was already short and getting shorter all the while as he inched the fabric up and up, intending to have her perfectly naked before long.
Further up the beach, a couple appeared to have the same idea. They did not come near to the place that Ana and Stepanos were, but he could hear the high pitched giggle of the lady and the low, indistinct rumbling of the man she was with. He looked over and saw their shadowed forms twisted together in much the same way he and Ana were for the moment. Once they got to the grasses, though, they’d be invisible, even if someone passed right next to them.
Tantalizing.
Each question that Ana raised, Stephanos had an answer. She might've felt the trickle of intrigue delve deeper than she wanted them to, but the siren was disciplined.
Many a time, Anastasia allowed herself to fall into the romantic notions of other women, falling in and out of love just as she traveled in and out of nations. Life beyond performances in the central plateia or the provincial backwaters of the kingdoms... she didn't imagine changing her inclinations simply for the sake of a lover. But, she'd thought about it. Heated kisses shared on sands, plains, on mattresses, Anastasia was not new to letting herself fall into the reverie of it all. Five years since she'd been liberated, since the phoenix had taken flight...
I am free.
She reveled in it, but not at the moment. There was a magnetism about Stephanos of Mikaelidas, one that inexorably bound Anastasia in place, that fascinated her. The pull she felt with other women was not something she was immune to with men... but she was selective. Stephanos was a beautiful man, there was that. But, the game he played, one of words and seduction, of sifting into her hair and taking the chain from it... Claiming he'd steal it. Anastasia might've seen red from the notion if it was someone else, but the prince had his demeanor. And she reveled in being pressed this close to him.
Charming.
"Oh no, you fiend!" she cried out, letting the falsetto for the moment
She let herself fall into it, playing into what he wanted her to do. Certainly, she reached up, nails trailing along his forearm with the intention of pulling it down. But, her efforts were half-hearted, an excuse at best to allow herself the excuse to press up more firmly into the prince's chest. The attention was luxurious enough of a thing to have...
But, then he enraptured her with a kiss and wrapped the chain around her waist. She was pushed back, and easily stepped back with his every pace. Stephanos lured her into a sand dune, and the shoots of grass eventually served to hide them away. With the rapture that was the salacious atmosphere the prince created... How he removed the binds keeping her chiton in place and how his hands made it very clear exactly how and where he wanted her. With the garment held only by her shoulders, it whipped just slightly in the wind before she shrugged and let it fall aside.
Give in to it...
But, she'd done that long ago. Before they'd stepped through the grass. When they'd had a wine jug to drown themselves in. Now, there were no distractions aside from another couple attempting to make themselves scarce as well. The siren had no eyes for interlopers. A quick shift of her hand pulled the belt from his waist, and Anastasia took her time, unwrapping the prince from his chiton like a gift. She licked her lips, admiring every muscled contour of his form, her fingers tracing along his ribs before falling lower to settle at his hips.
"Is something else catching your attention, your majesty?" she asked, a quick bat of her eyelashes before she pressed in to claim a spot on his chest with her lips.
Then, another as she bent just a shade lower, her hand snaking in between them to ensnare the length of him with a slow rhythm.
"I'd like to think that..." she breathed against his chest, tipping her head upwards to spill her words into his ear,
"I deserve it all."
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Tantalizing.
Each question that Ana raised, Stephanos had an answer. She might've felt the trickle of intrigue delve deeper than she wanted them to, but the siren was disciplined.
Many a time, Anastasia allowed herself to fall into the romantic notions of other women, falling in and out of love just as she traveled in and out of nations. Life beyond performances in the central plateia or the provincial backwaters of the kingdoms... she didn't imagine changing her inclinations simply for the sake of a lover. But, she'd thought about it. Heated kisses shared on sands, plains, on mattresses, Anastasia was not new to letting herself fall into the reverie of it all. Five years since she'd been liberated, since the phoenix had taken flight...
I am free.
She reveled in it, but not at the moment. There was a magnetism about Stephanos of Mikaelidas, one that inexorably bound Anastasia in place, that fascinated her. The pull she felt with other women was not something she was immune to with men... but she was selective. Stephanos was a beautiful man, there was that. But, the game he played, one of words and seduction, of sifting into her hair and taking the chain from it... Claiming he'd steal it. Anastasia might've seen red from the notion if it was someone else, but the prince had his demeanor. And she reveled in being pressed this close to him.
Charming.
"Oh no, you fiend!" she cried out, letting the falsetto for the moment
She let herself fall into it, playing into what he wanted her to do. Certainly, she reached up, nails trailing along his forearm with the intention of pulling it down. But, her efforts were half-hearted, an excuse at best to allow herself the excuse to press up more firmly into the prince's chest. The attention was luxurious enough of a thing to have...
But, then he enraptured her with a kiss and wrapped the chain around her waist. She was pushed back, and easily stepped back with his every pace. Stephanos lured her into a sand dune, and the shoots of grass eventually served to hide them away. With the rapture that was the salacious atmosphere the prince created... How he removed the binds keeping her chiton in place and how his hands made it very clear exactly how and where he wanted her. With the garment held only by her shoulders, it whipped just slightly in the wind before she shrugged and let it fall aside.
Give in to it...
But, she'd done that long ago. Before they'd stepped through the grass. When they'd had a wine jug to drown themselves in. Now, there were no distractions aside from another couple attempting to make themselves scarce as well. The siren had no eyes for interlopers. A quick shift of her hand pulled the belt from his waist, and Anastasia took her time, unwrapping the prince from his chiton like a gift. She licked her lips, admiring every muscled contour of his form, her fingers tracing along his ribs before falling lower to settle at his hips.
"Is something else catching your attention, your majesty?" she asked, a quick bat of her eyelashes before she pressed in to claim a spot on his chest with her lips.
Then, another as she bent just a shade lower, her hand snaking in between them to ensnare the length of him with a slow rhythm.
"I'd like to think that..." she breathed against his chest, tipping her head upwards to spill her words into his ear,
"I deserve it all."
Tantalizing.
Each question that Ana raised, Stephanos had an answer. She might've felt the trickle of intrigue delve deeper than she wanted them to, but the siren was disciplined.
Many a time, Anastasia allowed herself to fall into the romantic notions of other women, falling in and out of love just as she traveled in and out of nations. Life beyond performances in the central plateia or the provincial backwaters of the kingdoms... she didn't imagine changing her inclinations simply for the sake of a lover. But, she'd thought about it. Heated kisses shared on sands, plains, on mattresses, Anastasia was not new to letting herself fall into the reverie of it all. Five years since she'd been liberated, since the phoenix had taken flight...
I am free.
She reveled in it, but not at the moment. There was a magnetism about Stephanos of Mikaelidas, one that inexorably bound Anastasia in place, that fascinated her. The pull she felt with other women was not something she was immune to with men... but she was selective. Stephanos was a beautiful man, there was that. But, the game he played, one of words and seduction, of sifting into her hair and taking the chain from it... Claiming he'd steal it. Anastasia might've seen red from the notion if it was someone else, but the prince had his demeanor. And she reveled in being pressed this close to him.
Charming.
"Oh no, you fiend!" she cried out, letting the falsetto for the moment
She let herself fall into it, playing into what he wanted her to do. Certainly, she reached up, nails trailing along his forearm with the intention of pulling it down. But, her efforts were half-hearted, an excuse at best to allow herself the excuse to press up more firmly into the prince's chest. The attention was luxurious enough of a thing to have...
But, then he enraptured her with a kiss and wrapped the chain around her waist. She was pushed back, and easily stepped back with his every pace. Stephanos lured her into a sand dune, and the shoots of grass eventually served to hide them away. With the rapture that was the salacious atmosphere the prince created... How he removed the binds keeping her chiton in place and how his hands made it very clear exactly how and where he wanted her. With the garment held only by her shoulders, it whipped just slightly in the wind before she shrugged and let it fall aside.
Give in to it...
But, she'd done that long ago. Before they'd stepped through the grass. When they'd had a wine jug to drown themselves in. Now, there were no distractions aside from another couple attempting to make themselves scarce as well. The siren had no eyes for interlopers. A quick shift of her hand pulled the belt from his waist, and Anastasia took her time, unwrapping the prince from his chiton like a gift. She licked her lips, admiring every muscled contour of his form, her fingers tracing along his ribs before falling lower to settle at his hips.
"Is something else catching your attention, your majesty?" she asked, a quick bat of her eyelashes before she pressed in to claim a spot on his chest with her lips.
Then, another as she bent just a shade lower, her hand snaking in between them to ensnare the length of him with a slow rhythm.
"I'd like to think that..." she breathed against his chest, tipping her head upwards to spill her words into his ear,
"I deserve it all."
The shadow of her dress slithered off her body, leaving her shoulders and arms outlined in shimmering silver. The fingers of his right hand traveled between the valley of her breasts as his left settled on her hip. The planes of her face were plunged in shadow but he didn’t need to see her. They were close enough that her breath caressed his chin even as her fingers worked their way down his torso. She was soft and warm beneath his touch.
A laugh from two dunes over made him turn his head and he could almost feel her lips at his ear as she said “Is something else catching your attention, your majesty?”
“Not so much that I can’t be persuaded to return it here,” he murmured. He’d lifted his chin, intending to kiss her but she ghosted just out of reach. His lips brushed her hair as she pressed a kiss against his chest. Her arm trailed down his body and he relaxed a fraction when her hand wrapped around his length. He’d turned his head, seeking her mouth again but she kept herself just out of his reach. Shifting so that their cheeks were pressed together, she whispered in his ear.“I'd like to think that...I deserve it all.”
Until that moment, his hands had been gliding up and down her sides, straying over the dip in her lower back, trailing along the curve of her breasts, but now he took her jaw in one hand. He turned her head so that they were nose to nose. A smile curved the corners of his mouth and his eyes searched hers. She was beautiful - the kind of beautiful that other girls hoped to be; feminine but strong, delicately shaped but with personality. Her lips were distracting and silky smooth when he finally got the kiss he’d been after. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, tasting the wine on her tongue and the unsaid stories she hadn’t told. Stories that told him she’d done this kind of thing before. Stories that meant they’d have a very nice night.
The way they were positioned, his back was the one against the sand. His tongue still in her mouth, he lifted himself up on one elbow, forcing her up with him until they were nearly sitting. Then he slowly turned them so that her body was the one softly depressing into the sand on the dune. Reaching down, he took hold of her thigh and settled it over his hip but he didn’t take her quite yet.
“When did you decide to tell tales for entertainment?” he kissed away from her mouth until he reached her cheek. Tipping her head up to expose her neck, he sucked softly at the hollow just under her jaw.
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Check out their information page here.
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The shadow of her dress slithered off her body, leaving her shoulders and arms outlined in shimmering silver. The fingers of his right hand traveled between the valley of her breasts as his left settled on her hip. The planes of her face were plunged in shadow but he didn’t need to see her. They were close enough that her breath caressed his chin even as her fingers worked their way down his torso. She was soft and warm beneath his touch.
A laugh from two dunes over made him turn his head and he could almost feel her lips at his ear as she said “Is something else catching your attention, your majesty?”
“Not so much that I can’t be persuaded to return it here,” he murmured. He’d lifted his chin, intending to kiss her but she ghosted just out of reach. His lips brushed her hair as she pressed a kiss against his chest. Her arm trailed down his body and he relaxed a fraction when her hand wrapped around his length. He’d turned his head, seeking her mouth again but she kept herself just out of his reach. Shifting so that their cheeks were pressed together, she whispered in his ear.“I'd like to think that...I deserve it all.”
Until that moment, his hands had been gliding up and down her sides, straying over the dip in her lower back, trailing along the curve of her breasts, but now he took her jaw in one hand. He turned her head so that they were nose to nose. A smile curved the corners of his mouth and his eyes searched hers. She was beautiful - the kind of beautiful that other girls hoped to be; feminine but strong, delicately shaped but with personality. Her lips were distracting and silky smooth when he finally got the kiss he’d been after. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, tasting the wine on her tongue and the unsaid stories she hadn’t told. Stories that told him she’d done this kind of thing before. Stories that meant they’d have a very nice night.
The way they were positioned, his back was the one against the sand. His tongue still in her mouth, he lifted himself up on one elbow, forcing her up with him until they were nearly sitting. Then he slowly turned them so that her body was the one softly depressing into the sand on the dune. Reaching down, he took hold of her thigh and settled it over his hip but he didn’t take her quite yet.
“When did you decide to tell tales for entertainment?” he kissed away from her mouth until he reached her cheek. Tipping her head up to expose her neck, he sucked softly at the hollow just under her jaw.
The shadow of her dress slithered off her body, leaving her shoulders and arms outlined in shimmering silver. The fingers of his right hand traveled between the valley of her breasts as his left settled on her hip. The planes of her face were plunged in shadow but he didn’t need to see her. They were close enough that her breath caressed his chin even as her fingers worked their way down his torso. She was soft and warm beneath his touch.
A laugh from two dunes over made him turn his head and he could almost feel her lips at his ear as she said “Is something else catching your attention, your majesty?”
“Not so much that I can’t be persuaded to return it here,” he murmured. He’d lifted his chin, intending to kiss her but she ghosted just out of reach. His lips brushed her hair as she pressed a kiss against his chest. Her arm trailed down his body and he relaxed a fraction when her hand wrapped around his length. He’d turned his head, seeking her mouth again but she kept herself just out of his reach. Shifting so that their cheeks were pressed together, she whispered in his ear.“I'd like to think that...I deserve it all.”
Until that moment, his hands had been gliding up and down her sides, straying over the dip in her lower back, trailing along the curve of her breasts, but now he took her jaw in one hand. He turned her head so that they were nose to nose. A smile curved the corners of his mouth and his eyes searched hers. She was beautiful - the kind of beautiful that other girls hoped to be; feminine but strong, delicately shaped but with personality. Her lips were distracting and silky smooth when he finally got the kiss he’d been after. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, tasting the wine on her tongue and the unsaid stories she hadn’t told. Stories that told him she’d done this kind of thing before. Stories that meant they’d have a very nice night.
The way they were positioned, his back was the one against the sand. His tongue still in her mouth, he lifted himself up on one elbow, forcing her up with him until they were nearly sitting. Then he slowly turned them so that her body was the one softly depressing into the sand on the dune. Reaching down, he took hold of her thigh and settled it over his hip but he didn’t take her quite yet.
“When did you decide to tell tales for entertainment?” he kissed away from her mouth until he reached her cheek. Tipping her head up to expose her neck, he sucked softly at the hollow just under her jaw.
Gooseflesh followed the path of Stephanos' hand as it settled between her breasts, the other upon her hip as his gaze fell upon a shadowed face. She posed her question, teasing both his body with the slow strokes of his length and his mind with the gentle lick of her words. She coaxed from him that murmur, that shift of his features as he sought to kiss her. But, he wasn't trying quite hard enough just yet. Just as she felt her pull with women, desiring a delicious sort of submission as she claimed what she wanted: the music of moans reverberating from the walls or forming an echo through the sky.
Right now, however, she was keen on allowing this man something not often afforded to his gender: trust. It was a heady thing, to allow his hands to move as they did, with little effort to dissuade him from anything save for the claiming of her lips. She offered herself freely, growing more and more aware that such easy prowess as his was a sort of mark. The Gods touched every mortal in one way or another, whether intentionally, or through their mortal experiences. Stephanos seemed sculpted by Aphrodite or even @zeus, from the muscled form of a warrior to the gentle touch that grew more and more ardent as the night wore on.
Relax, Calliope...
She heard that vile tone reverberate through the ages, an effort to discourage her, to send her crashing from the lofty heights of reverence to the pits of despair. But, she rebuked the ghost of Alector, his sepulchral whisper that sought to encase her with terror. As those words snaked through her awareness as dark tendrils, a strong hand shifted to capture her jawline in an all-too-familiar way. She stared not into the eyes of Alector, however, but the crystal gaze of the prince once more. Lips claimed after hers, and the tendrils all at once were banished, their grasp upon her relinquished as Stephanos' grew firmer, as his lips claimed hers and the kiss deepened.
Tongues entwined, the taste of wine a ghost upon both of them as the dark embrace of a ghost whittled away before a rapture. Stephanos lifted himself from the ground, and Ana gracefully followed his every motion, until the both of them were nearly sitting up until they crashed back down into the sand in an inverse of their previous positions. Now, Anastasia was the one in the sand, feeling the prickling kiss of the beach upon her bared skin. One thigh was pulled up, and her position encouraged a more languid approach to this culmination towards pleasure.
Take the lead, my prince, she sought to urge him, but words did not find her lips. Silenced into submission, she waited with an unknown eagerness, to be claimed by him, taken and ravaged against the sand, letting caution and possible discomfort fall away from her thoughts. In fact, her thoughts seemed to whittle away entirely, narrowing into a finer and finer blade. She licked her lips in anticipation, a glimmer of hazel peeking through nearly shut eyes. The moan of anticipation was so very close to leaving her, until it was interrupted and an intake of breath stilled her rapid pulse.
He posed his question, leaving the siren's senses caught ablaze in the whirlwind of excitement. To be forced to think and formulate a response was almost jarring, but in the midst of it all she found laughter in it all.
"You make me wait for a question? How novel, my prince," she managed at first, shifting her posture so that her arms supported her weight and allowed her to raise her head comfortably. Just as she did, his lips traced a path along her mouth, finding her cheek before her head tipped up with his encouragement.
"I was called to it... Servants of the Gods do not make the decision to do so. It is an instinct, borne in the soul and so very carefully placed."
She hoped her answer sufficient to earn her reward.
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Gooseflesh followed the path of Stephanos' hand as it settled between her breasts, the other upon her hip as his gaze fell upon a shadowed face. She posed her question, teasing both his body with the slow strokes of his length and his mind with the gentle lick of her words. She coaxed from him that murmur, that shift of his features as he sought to kiss her. But, he wasn't trying quite hard enough just yet. Just as she felt her pull with women, desiring a delicious sort of submission as she claimed what she wanted: the music of moans reverberating from the walls or forming an echo through the sky.
Right now, however, she was keen on allowing this man something not often afforded to his gender: trust. It was a heady thing, to allow his hands to move as they did, with little effort to dissuade him from anything save for the claiming of her lips. She offered herself freely, growing more and more aware that such easy prowess as his was a sort of mark. The Gods touched every mortal in one way or another, whether intentionally, or through their mortal experiences. Stephanos seemed sculpted by Aphrodite or even @zeus, from the muscled form of a warrior to the gentle touch that grew more and more ardent as the night wore on.
Relax, Calliope...
She heard that vile tone reverberate through the ages, an effort to discourage her, to send her crashing from the lofty heights of reverence to the pits of despair. But, she rebuked the ghost of Alector, his sepulchral whisper that sought to encase her with terror. As those words snaked through her awareness as dark tendrils, a strong hand shifted to capture her jawline in an all-too-familiar way. She stared not into the eyes of Alector, however, but the crystal gaze of the prince once more. Lips claimed after hers, and the tendrils all at once were banished, their grasp upon her relinquished as Stephanos' grew firmer, as his lips claimed hers and the kiss deepened.
Tongues entwined, the taste of wine a ghost upon both of them as the dark embrace of a ghost whittled away before a rapture. Stephanos lifted himself from the ground, and Ana gracefully followed his every motion, until the both of them were nearly sitting up until they crashed back down into the sand in an inverse of their previous positions. Now, Anastasia was the one in the sand, feeling the prickling kiss of the beach upon her bared skin. One thigh was pulled up, and her position encouraged a more languid approach to this culmination towards pleasure.
Take the lead, my prince, she sought to urge him, but words did not find her lips. Silenced into submission, she waited with an unknown eagerness, to be claimed by him, taken and ravaged against the sand, letting caution and possible discomfort fall away from her thoughts. In fact, her thoughts seemed to whittle away entirely, narrowing into a finer and finer blade. She licked her lips in anticipation, a glimmer of hazel peeking through nearly shut eyes. The moan of anticipation was so very close to leaving her, until it was interrupted and an intake of breath stilled her rapid pulse.
He posed his question, leaving the siren's senses caught ablaze in the whirlwind of excitement. To be forced to think and formulate a response was almost jarring, but in the midst of it all she found laughter in it all.
"You make me wait for a question? How novel, my prince," she managed at first, shifting her posture so that her arms supported her weight and allowed her to raise her head comfortably. Just as she did, his lips traced a path along her mouth, finding her cheek before her head tipped up with his encouragement.
"I was called to it... Servants of the Gods do not make the decision to do so. It is an instinct, borne in the soul and so very carefully placed."
She hoped her answer sufficient to earn her reward.
Gooseflesh followed the path of Stephanos' hand as it settled between her breasts, the other upon her hip as his gaze fell upon a shadowed face. She posed her question, teasing both his body with the slow strokes of his length and his mind with the gentle lick of her words. She coaxed from him that murmur, that shift of his features as he sought to kiss her. But, he wasn't trying quite hard enough just yet. Just as she felt her pull with women, desiring a delicious sort of submission as she claimed what she wanted: the music of moans reverberating from the walls or forming an echo through the sky.
Right now, however, she was keen on allowing this man something not often afforded to his gender: trust. It was a heady thing, to allow his hands to move as they did, with little effort to dissuade him from anything save for the claiming of her lips. She offered herself freely, growing more and more aware that such easy prowess as his was a sort of mark. The Gods touched every mortal in one way or another, whether intentionally, or through their mortal experiences. Stephanos seemed sculpted by Aphrodite or even @zeus, from the muscled form of a warrior to the gentle touch that grew more and more ardent as the night wore on.
Relax, Calliope...
She heard that vile tone reverberate through the ages, an effort to discourage her, to send her crashing from the lofty heights of reverence to the pits of despair. But, she rebuked the ghost of Alector, his sepulchral whisper that sought to encase her with terror. As those words snaked through her awareness as dark tendrils, a strong hand shifted to capture her jawline in an all-too-familiar way. She stared not into the eyes of Alector, however, but the crystal gaze of the prince once more. Lips claimed after hers, and the tendrils all at once were banished, their grasp upon her relinquished as Stephanos' grew firmer, as his lips claimed hers and the kiss deepened.
Tongues entwined, the taste of wine a ghost upon both of them as the dark embrace of a ghost whittled away before a rapture. Stephanos lifted himself from the ground, and Ana gracefully followed his every motion, until the both of them were nearly sitting up until they crashed back down into the sand in an inverse of their previous positions. Now, Anastasia was the one in the sand, feeling the prickling kiss of the beach upon her bared skin. One thigh was pulled up, and her position encouraged a more languid approach to this culmination towards pleasure.
Take the lead, my prince, she sought to urge him, but words did not find her lips. Silenced into submission, she waited with an unknown eagerness, to be claimed by him, taken and ravaged against the sand, letting caution and possible discomfort fall away from her thoughts. In fact, her thoughts seemed to whittle away entirely, narrowing into a finer and finer blade. She licked her lips in anticipation, a glimmer of hazel peeking through nearly shut eyes. The moan of anticipation was so very close to leaving her, until it was interrupted and an intake of breath stilled her rapid pulse.
He posed his question, leaving the siren's senses caught ablaze in the whirlwind of excitement. To be forced to think and formulate a response was almost jarring, but in the midst of it all she found laughter in it all.
"You make me wait for a question? How novel, my prince," she managed at first, shifting her posture so that her arms supported her weight and allowed her to raise her head comfortably. Just as she did, his lips traced a path along her mouth, finding her cheek before her head tipped up with his encouragement.
"I was called to it... Servants of the Gods do not make the decision to do so. It is an instinct, borne in the soul and so very carefully placed."
She hoped her answer sufficient to earn her reward.
