summer storms
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Summary
The stiffness in his back is easy enough to stretch out, but his cock poses a more difficult problem. Hermenost doesn't dare touch himself, too afraid Tilla will see into his very soul with those sharp yellow eyes and find out the truth of his wants, the enormity of his one-sided desire, and be disgusted at what she finds in him. His cock twitches at the very thought of her, but he forces himself to ignore it.
Instead, Hermenost finishes his stretches and makes his way over to the dresser by the window. The flog is where he left it, leather light and heavy in his hand all at once.
Series
- Part 1 of summer storms
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Summary
“I see,” Hermenost replies, thoughtful, something in his expression changing as he looks down at her with those golden-green eyes. He takes a half-step forward, approaching her like she’s a feral cat he's worried will bolt at any moment. After a moment, he clears his throat and adds, “The others are preparing to set off for the Tower of Babil. Are you well enough to come?”
“After Thordan,” Tilla starts, and then trails off. Tempered you is technically the correct term, but feels too blasé. Scrambled your brain and altered your body feels more apt, but not polite enough. Instead, she settles on, “I know it's not the same thing but. After Thordan. How long did it take you to feel normal again?”
Series
- Part 2 of summer storms
- Language:
- English
- Words:
- 1,430
- Chapters:
- 1/1
- Kudos:
- 6
- Hits:
- 30
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Summary
Her cats are all asleep elsewhere, likely in the kitchen, and Hermenost is quiet on the other end of the couch, reading his own book much more raptly than she is hers. Tilla simply looks at him for a long moment, taking in the way the early morning sunlight shines on his handsome features and greenish hair, before deciding that bothering him would do nicely for her entertainment.
Series
- Part 3 of summer storms
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Tags
Summary
“Well,” Tilla drawls, stepping forward and drawing his gaze back to her. She reaches out, taking his hands in hers and bringing them to rest on her hips, across the strings holding her bikini bottom up. His eyes darken impossibly more, the golden-green of his irises eclipsed with black, as his hands splay across her scales, palms warm and fingers spread wide. She lets her eyes dip slightly, catching on the sharp concave of his muscled stomach at her closeness, and just barely beats back the urge to correct his breathing habits before continuing instead, “You can touch me now, ser.”
Series
- Part 4 of summer storms