Makes me want…

There is this tugging at my brain, that slips into my fingertips.  It dances over the keys of the keyboard in a staccato rhythm of creation. Thinking about Zed makes me want to write, to draw, to kiss, to hug, to touch; to do so many things!

I am not particularly manic at the moment, yesterday evening I was actually quite scattered and low.  Today is more like a daze.  I feel dreamy and cocooned.  I am thinking a lot about Zed and all the things I enjoy about him. In spite of the fact I am rapidly realizing just how challenging it could get dealing with someone who is possibly as neurodivergent as myself.  It doesn’t feel like a negative though, in fact it feels like a strange, glorious, ephemeral sort of positive. Or perhaps I am simply more mad than once thought. (maybe both)

It is so funny how our first kiss was catastrophe and now when his lips are on mine I tingle from top to toes.  He fills me with fire. I want to bend over backwards and tie myself into pretzels to please and pleasure him.

I stare at him quite often.  I can’t help it, my eyes are drawn back, again,again,again. So I am going to gush a little.  I want to cherish and revel in this moment while I can. So some of the things I have noticed and adore are as follows.

The way he tips his head when listening intently to others around him. The way his voice dips and purrs when he says something particularly sweet just for me. How he takes his glasses off to eat. The movement of his hands and the almost delicate way they encounter the world. His crooked half smile when I catch him staring at me! The strong lines of his face, the cut of his jaw, the angle of his cheek bones and his pert nose.  And his eyes, those dark, star field blue, eyes; and even though they deny him a clear view of the world, they are so incredibly beautiful.

 

Predatory stirrings

Something restless moves within. Lean and sleek; all gleaming eye and flashing fang,  it cuts a breathtakingly lovely, deadly silhouette.

There are hints from my current Crush, glimpses of something prey like under the surface. Not in a cringing, fearful way, but in that willing sacrifice way.

I could be misreading, or off base, but still; it has my feral side’s ears up and tail twitching.

 

 

bits of words a snipppet of fiction

I am a bruise upon the night.  A coiled figure of shadow and blight. Once there was wonder and beauty within me but age and bitterness has robbed me of all light.  I remain a creature of claws, lust, jaws and wire.  I know I am a monster but such knowledge no longer troubles me.  I glory in my darkness. A flash of fang beneath the overhang of ruby lips and twisted in the light of jade idol eyes. Succubus they breath the word like a curse, like a benediction. I am a prayer of the damned. 

His hands, his hands like no others they tame me.  Perhaps the demoness has met her match. His eyes pin me in their blue fire stare. Yet I stay, eager to immolate.

Smiling

My voice is a raspy suggestion of a bar room torch singer. Strained.
My lips are noticeably tender as I can’t help but run my tongue against them. I ache deeply in intimate places. Such bruised sensations make my entire body tingle as I play over the memory of last night and how those aches came to be.

The Cheshire cat has nothing on me today even as tired as I am.

You broke time and left me worn, and sore.

Thank you.

As I look up

I watch the play of light and shadow across your features.
Your eyes catch and release mine as the waves of pleasure push them closed only to open again as you resurface.
I am smitten with how you look this way flooded, with sensation at my hands.  Your body so eloquently straining. There is a sort of lusty poetry born in this forced silence, in this taboo location. I am no romantic but even a succubus can be moved by such decadence. 

In retrospect I know it could be have been anyone making you feel that way. I have to admit it stings that there was nothing particularly special about it being me doing it.

Girls, we all want to somehow be special.  I am no exception especially in such moments. 
I hate that part.
So stupid.

Thankfully such realities did not corrupt the moment as they are sometimes want to do.

Living with my brain can so often be a bitch.

Radio silence

Been a busy holiday season, spent some time out of town in a place that snows.  Its good to be back.

New years renewed my faith in magic. I had such an amazing day and night.  I love my family and my friends are as much family to me as my blood. They make this place home.

In other news I am a bit of a mess.
Not new news.
Contrary I am simultaneously listless and restless.   Hopeful but despondent. Bloody fucking tiresome is the best way to describe it.

I am roiling inside like a wind tossed sea. My body is surging with a greedy ache for sex. Lust building pressure and it jacks with my already jacked up head.

Don’t cry for me Argentina, I know how to use my hands. Plus with opposable thumbs I can use tools.
But its not quite the same is it?
Trust me
Its not