Private Tales Feral Animals

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Warm fingertips curling, nails biting into skin. Hot breath tickling the ear.

The sleeping elf stirred, arching back into the warmth, pressing deeper into it. Craving, from the depths of slumber, any pleasure. Any heat. Anything but the cold and the pain.

Yavanna's head tilted as she moved and a nose brushed against her cheek. Then lips. This must be some waking dream. She turned into it, chasing the fantasy.

The softest of moans cooed from the bow of her lips into the silence of that hollow.

Sable
 
  • Ctuhlu senpai
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Her hips rolled subtly against Yavanna’s. The hollow was silent around them, broken only by ragged breaths and the faint rustle of leaves outside, while Sable remained lost in a dream that blurred desire and exhaustion into one unrelenting current.

Her hand roamed, up over ribs and breast, until it curled around the smooth curve of Yavanna’s throat. Her lips brushed the side of the elf’s neck, warm and hungry... And then her teeth sank in, not enough to break skin, but enough to mark, to anchor, to claim in the dreamy haze she didn’t yet wake from.
 
  • Blank
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Pressure on her ribs, painful against a bruise, then it rose higher and the pain melted away as fingers curled tightly into her neck. The tendons of her throat pressed against the offending hand. Yavanna stirred.

Was she dreaming?

Hot breath, then the sharp press of teeth against the soft flesh of her neck.

Yavanna let out a sound, not quite a whimper. Her back arched, hips rolling back further. Leaves crunched and stirred beneath her.

Where was she?

Why did her body ache and-… unnff. Yavanna bit her lower lip as the sensations of foreign hand and teeth washed over her.

Sable
 
  • Ctuhlu senpai
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The rustle of leaves snapped her back to reality.

Sable’s eyes flew open and her body went rigid, the heat of the elf pressed too close, her mouth far too near skin it had no business being near. For half a heartbeat she didn’t move, just breathed, hard and uneven before awareness slammed in alongside pain, poison, exhaustion, and the very clear fact that something had gone wrong.

She tore herself back with a sharp hiss, forcing her weight up onto one elbow despite the screaming protest of her wounded shoulder. Her free arm came down automatically, bracing across Yavanna’s throat, pinning her, holding her flat against the roots with practiced force.

“What the fuck are you doing?” she snapped.

Her face hovered inches above the elf’s, flushed and furious, sweat slicking her skin, grey eyes sharp despite the fever burning through her. Whatever had happened in sleep was gone now, replaced by control and barely leashed temper.
 
  • Cthulhoo rage
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Yavanna froze. Her blood turned to ice in her veins. The arm over her throat constricted her breath, painful and crushing against her trachea. She tried to shift, but that only brought another flash of agony as the wound in her shoulder flared.

"Me?" she managed to hiss out, aghast as she looked up at the face of the human. Her captor. The one who abducted her, chained her, and stabbed her. The one who beat her. The one who... who... She could still feel the lingering warmth on her neck from a hand. And lips.

"Your mind is addled by poison, human," Yavanna bared her teeth at the woman, "I was asleep."

Sable
 
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