wolfwood-tar replied to your post: wolfwood-tar replied to your post: wolfwood-tar…
*smirks and brushes his hands down Damon’s front, massaging his hips absently.* Si. Do not worry. I shall soldier through both things.Oh, well. Look at you being all noble….
-grins subtly and shakes his head faintly, eyes sliding shut at the nuzzle to his neck, chin tilted upward before shivering once more as he’s sung to, fingers entwined, biting his lower lip as the certain emphasis was put on before changing the tune entirely- Am I Ulysses, am I Ulysses…~? No, but you are now, boy~… -slides his eyes open to stare absently at the ceiling before turning to nose Nicholas’ jaw in return- So sinister, so sinister~… -Kisses his jaw, and then his neck, voice more or less a whisper now- But last night was wild~…
*smiles devilishly, kissing beneath Damon’s chin as he turns them both in place, softly fanning his wings back to make room.* …The hot blood grew cold, yeah, everyone knows it~ everyone knows it… *sighs blissfully and draws his hand higher across Damon’s middle, thumb brushing over the curve of his hipbone, eyes fluttering at the touches, head craning back with a lazy, feline smile, swaying where he stands.* Everybody knows it…~
*smirks and brushes his hands down Damon’s front, massaging his hips absently.* Si. Do not worry. I shall soldier through both things.Oh, well. Look at you being all noble. -turns and kisses Nicholas cheek,- Battling on. -and his jaw- Positively heroic. -slides his hand over Nicholas’ and sways faintly where he stands-
*grins and twines his fingers through Damon’s own, turning to catch his other hand, the first keeping both of theirs on one of the spirit’s hips.* Am I, now? And here I was thinking I’d found mi Odysseus; the real hero. Albeit, much more modest. *noses Damon’s neck with a hum, richly purring a few lyrics into his ear.* And tales of brave Ulysses, how his…naked ears were tortured~ by the sirens, sweetly singin’..~
Athena:
Psyche:
Anya:
Jenna:
Angela:
Teegra:
Sophie:
:l
:V
:l
*gets up, shaking rain off of his wings, and pads away with his teacup.* Fah.
…Only if I make him mad. *breathes and sags, reminding himself that…certain things, despite how impossible their world can be, are, indeed, impossible.*
…
8| *snaps his wings back and swings around to face the anon, looking harried.* …are you suggesting—with—eggs and—
8|
Pardon. Escuche. Que?
*grins and raises his wings, arching them over himself to let the rain dance off his feathers.* How~ do you like~ your eggs in the morning…?
*chuckles.* The rain, she makes a lovely sound.
