His kiss pulls a moan from her, and she can’t help but raise her hips. Then there’s cool air brushing over her skin, and the abrupt contrast of the heat of his mouth, and even around the gag Summer’s crying out. Short, sharp moans, pleading in time with the motion of Loki’s tongue, hips pressing. She desperately wants more motion, even speech, but she’s utterly helpless, back arching into Loki’s skilled hands and mouth.
Tag Archives: rp: kitty kitty
Kitty, kitty
Every touch causes her to twitch at the surprise of it. His voice is like a lifeline, something to cling to, and she can’t help her head turning to try to follow it. She wants to say his name, wants to respond, and has no idea how one does so, bound up as she is. The best she can do is a whimper.
“One day,” Loki murmurs as he gently lowers her onto her back, situating her bound hands above her head so he can get at her abdomen, “you will finally believe when I, and others, say you are beautiful. I could watch you all day, writhing at my touch.” He slowly lifts her shirt, just to expose her stomach, caressing the fair skin there. Loki leans in and kisses her through the gag. His touches remain more or less innocent, simply getting her used to feeling him on her skin.
There’s no reason Loki’s hands on her skin should feel so erotic, but they do. Is it because she is helpless to his touch? Is it something in his voice? It’s a glorious voice, made more so by her focus on it now; if the velvet binding her eyes had a sound it would be his voice. The muscles in her stomach twitch under his cool hands, and she can’t help arching her back into the touch.
Slowly, Loki’s lips move down Summer’s neck. He groans softly as she arches against him, pressing her hip against the leather containing his steel hard length. The god trails hot kisses down her collarbone and across the swell of her breasts, though never moving under the fabric of her shirt. He has many more hours still, and he seems perfectly content to take his time and kiss every inch of her skin.
He looks up as he moves to kiss across her stomach while his hand begins an exploration of her thighs. Once again, he remains respectful and doesn’t touch where she expects except for a few accidental brushes of his fingertips. “Darling, beautiful Summer…” Loki pauses, sighing a little and blowing lightly on her stomach, “even though you can’t speak… I don’t want you to hold back. I want to hear every whimper and sigh… And don’t worry about the fire. I won’t be harmed by it. I want you to relax completely.”
Summer wails, pitifully and low in her throat. Relax? How can she relax? With his hands, his voice, she can’t see or move herself … determinedly she forces her muscles to loosen and blows her breath out. Every ‘accidental brush’ induces a whimper, his breath across her skin a sighing sob. She wants, and he’s teasing, and she’s helpless. Trying to hold a picture of the scene in her mind, she reaches out with her feet, trying to lock Loki in with her legs.
Loki laughs as she locks her legs around his shoulders, prompting him to push her thighs wide as he moves back up her body. “You can feel it, how much I want you. You feel my emotions…” He arches his hips against her, pressing himself against her in slow circles. One hand moves up to push her shirt all the way up. Now exposed to his view, he gazes down on her newly revealed flesh before letting his lips explore it.
‘God, yes,’ is all she can think, starting to writhe under his touch again. The pun makes her giggle, but he has a point — well more than one point if she’s honest — and she lets him feel her desire, her amusement, even while she’s starting to moan more desperately. Untwining her feet, she haphazardly tries to tickle him a bit, but her concentration is totally disrupted by what he’s doing to her.
Loki groans as her emotions hit him like a freight train. “A little warning next time… I’d like this to last for a while.” He chuckles as she tries to tickle him, making him squirm on top of her. He regains the upper hand rather quickly though, finally putting his hands somewhere they definitely don’t belong. He cups and squeezes her breasts through her bra, his thumbs flicking over her nipples.“So beautiful…” he almost growls. His head lowers as he pulls down the fabric of her bra. Hungrily, he suckles the peak of her nipple, emerald eyes looking up at her, smoldering intently.
The shock when he caresses her breasts is breathtaking. It’s slowly becoming less ‘where is he I’ve nothing to go on’ and more ‘please yes finally’, but it’s still shock, still pulls goosebumps from her flesh and sends a shiver down her body. She wants desperately to touch him in return, and writhes under his hands, only half-conscious of what she’s doing. A wail escapes her throat at the touch of his mouth on bare skin.
Kitty, kitty
Every touch causes her to twitch at the surprise of it. His voice is like a lifeline, something to cling to, and she can’t help her head turning to try to follow it. She wants to say his name, wants to respond, and has no idea how one does so, bound up as she is. The best she can do is a whimper.
“One day,” Loki murmurs as he gently lowers her onto her back, situating her bound hands above her head so he can get at her abdomen, “you will finally believe when I, and others, say you are beautiful. I could watch you all day, writhing at my touch.” He slowly lifts her shirt, just to expose her stomach, caressing the fair skin there. Loki leans in and kisses her through the gag. His touches remain more or less innocent, simply getting her used to feeling him on her skin.
There’s no reason Loki’s hands on her skin should feel so erotic, but they do. Is it because she is helpless to his touch? Is it something in his voice? It’s a glorious voice, made more so by her focus on it now; if the velvet binding her eyes had a sound it would be his voice. The muscles in her stomach twitch under his cool hands, and she can’t help arching her back into the touch.
Slowly, Loki’s lips move down Summer’s neck. He groans softly as she arches against him, pressing her hip against the leather containing his steel hard length. The god trails hot kisses down her collarbone and across the swell of her breasts, though never moving under the fabric of her shirt. He has many more hours still, and he seems perfectly content to take his time and kiss every inch of her skin.
He looks up as he moves to kiss across her stomach while his hand begins an exploration of her thighs. Once again, he remains respectful and doesn’t touch where she expects except for a few accidental brushes of his fingertips. “Darling, beautiful Summer…” Loki pauses, sighing a little and blowing lightly on her stomach, “even though you can’t speak… I don’t want you to hold back. I want to hear every whimper and sigh… And don’t worry about the fire. I won’t be harmed by it. I want you to relax completely.”
Summer wails, pitifully and low in her throat. Relax? How can she relax? With his hands, his voice, she can’t see or move herself … determinedly she forces her muscles to loosen and blows her breath out. Every ‘accidental brush’ induces a whimper, his breath across her skin a sighing sob. She wants, and he’s teasing, and she’s helpless. Trying to hold a picture of the scene in her mind, she reaches out with her feet, trying to lock Loki in with her legs.
Loki laughs as she locks her legs around his shoulders, prompting him to push her thighs wide as he moves back up her body. “You can feel it, how much I want you. You feel my emotions…” He arches his hips against her, pressing himself against her in slow circles. One hand moves up to push her shirt all the way up. Now exposed to his view, he gazes down on her newly revealed flesh before letting his lips explore it.
‘God, yes,’ is all she can think, starting to writhe under his touch again. The pun makes her giggle, but he has a point — well more than one point if she’s honest — and she lets him feel her desire, her amusement, even while she’s starting to moan more desperately. Untwining her feet, she haphazardly tries to tickle him a bit, but her concentration is totally disrupted by what he’s doing to her.
Kitty, kitty
mischief-maker-loki:
mischief-maker-loki:
Loki gently entwines his fingers in her hair, slowly tugging her hair back. He leans in, his lips brushing her ear. “Here, kitty, kitty…” His voice is a low purr. His tongue flickers out to tease her ear lobe before nipping it lightly. “Now, what shall I do with you…
“Wha—” Summer’s cry of surprise is choked off almost immediately by the satin gag that loops itself into her mouth. She reaches up to scrabble at the fabric and is stopped by the silk twining itself around her wrists, the sight of it blocked by the velvet blindfold wrapped over her eyes. Senses down to touch and sound and empathy, she freezes in place under Loki’s hand, the soft black velvet collar and lead latching into place about her throat. Only the fact that her mind recognises this Loki keeps her from lashing out with fire as she shudders under his mouth.
Perhaps unlike some others she has encountered, Loki doesn’t try and curb his desire for her. Grinning, he gives the leash a teasing tug. “You will find, my dear, that removal of some senses enhance the others.” He trails the backs of his fingers across her cheek before pulling her hair over across one shoulder. After a teasing moment his lips trail over her skin. He toys with the silk holding her wrists, smiling against her skin. “I think I shall enjoy this particular addition to the game.
Every touch causes her to twitch at the surprise of it. His voice is like a lifeline, something to cling to, and she can’t help her head turning to try to follow it. She wants to say his name, wants to respond, and has no idea how one does so, bound up as she is. The best she can do is a whimper.
“One day,” Loki murmurs as he gently lowers her onto her back, situating her bound hands above her head so he can get at her abdomen, “you will finally believe when I, and others, say you are beautiful. I could watch you all day, writhing at my touch.” He slowly lifts her shirt, just to expose her stomach, caressing the fair skin there. Loki leans in and kisses her through the gag. His touches remain more or less innocent, simply getting her used to feeling him on her skin.
There’s no reason Loki’s hands on her skin should feel so erotic, but they do. Is it because she is helpless to his touch? Is it something in his voice? It’s a glorious voice, made more so by her focus on it now; if the velvet binding her eyes had a sound it would be his voice. The muscles in her stomach twitch under his cool hands, and she can’t help arching her back into the touch.
Slowly, Loki’s lips move down Summer’s neck. He groans softly as she arches against him, pressing her hip against the leather containing his steel hard length. The god trails hot kisses down her collarbone and across the swell of her breasts, though never moving under the fabric of her shirt. He has many more hours still, and he seems perfectly content to take his time and kiss every inch of her skin.
He looks up as he moves to kiss across her stomach while his hand begins an exploration of her thighs. Once again, he remains respectful and doesn’t touch where she expects except for a few accidental brushes of his fingertips. “Darling, beautiful Summer…” Loki pauses, sighing a little and blowing lightly on her stomach, “even though you can’t speak… I don’t want you to hold back. I want to hear every whimper and sigh… And don’t worry about the fire. I won’t be harmed by it. I want you to relax completely.”
Summer wails, pitifully and low in her throat. Relax? How can she relax? With his hands, his voice, she can’t see or move herself … determinedly she forces her muscles to loosen and blows her breath out. Every ‘accidental brush’ induces a whimper, his breath across her skin a sighing sob. She wants, and he’s teasing, and she’s helpless. Trying to hold a picture of the scene in her mind, she reaches out with her feet, trying to lock Loki in with her legs.
Kitty, kitty
mischief-maker-loki:
mischief-maker-loki:
Loki gently entwines his fingers in her hair, slowly tugging her hair back. He leans in, his lips brushing her ear. “Here, kitty, kitty…” His voice is a low purr. His tongue flickers out to tease her ear lobe before nipping it lightly. “Now, what shall I do with you…
“Wha—” Summer’s cry of surprise is choked off almost immediately by the satin gag that loops itself into her mouth. She reaches up to scrabble at the fabric and is stopped by the silk twining itself around her wrists, the sight of it blocked by the velvet blindfold wrapped over her eyes. Senses down to touch and sound and empathy, she freezes in place under Loki’s hand, the soft black velvet collar and lead latching into place about her throat. Only the fact that her mind recognises this Loki keeps her from lashing out with fire as she shudders under his mouth.
Perhaps unlike some others she has encountered, Loki doesn’t try and curb his desire for her. Grinning, he gives the leash a teasing tug. “You will find, my dear, that removal of some senses enhance the others.” He trails the backs of his fingers across her cheek before pulling her hair over across one shoulder. After a teasing moment his lips trail over her skin. He toys with the silk holding her wrists, smiling against her skin. “I think I shall enjoy this particular addition to the game.
Every touch causes her to twitch at the surprise of it. His voice is like a lifeline, something to cling to, and she can’t help her head turning to try to follow it. She wants to say his name, wants to respond, and has no idea how one does so, bound up as she is. The best she can do is a whimper.
“One day,” Loki murmurs as he gently lowers her onto her back, situating her bound hands above her head so he can get at her abdomen, “you will finally believe when I, and others, say you are beautiful. I could watch you all day, writhing at my touch.” He slowly lifts her shirt, just to expose her stomach, caressing the fair skin there. Loki leans in and kisses her through the gag. His touches remain more or less innocent, simply getting her used to feeling him on her skin.
There’s no reason Loki’s hands on her skin should feel so erotic, but they do. Is it because she is helpless to his touch? Is it something in his voice? It’s a glorious voice, made more so by her focus on it now; if the velvet binding her eyes had a sound it would be his voice. The muscles in her stomach twitch under his cool hands, and she can’t help arching her back into the touch.
Kitty, kitty
mischief-maker-loki:
mischief-maker-loki:
Loki gently entwines his fingers in her hair, slowly tugging her hair back. He leans in, his lips brushing her ear. “Here, kitty, kitty…” His voice is a low purr. His tongue flickers out to tease her ear lobe before nipping it lightly. “Now, what shall I do with you…
“Wha—” Summer’s cry of surprise is choked off almost immediately by the satin gag that loops itself into her mouth. She reaches up to scrabble at the fabric and is stopped by the silk twining itself around her wrists, the sight of it blocked by the velvet blindfold wrapped over her eyes. Senses down to touch and sound and empathy, she freezes in place under Loki’s hand, the soft black velvet collar and lead latching into place about her throat. Only the fact that her mind recognises this Loki keeps her from lashing out with fire as she shudders under his mouth.
Perhaps unlike some others she has encountered, Loki doesn’t try and curb his desire for her. Grinning, he gives the leash a teasing tug. “You will find, my dear, that removal of some senses enhance the others.” He trails the backs of his fingers across her cheek before pulling her hair over across one shoulder. After a teasing moment his lips trail over her skin. He toys with the silk holding her wrists, smiling against her skin. “I think I shall enjoy this particular addition to the game.
Every touch causes her to twitch at the surprise of it. His voice is like a lifeline, something to cling to, and she can’t help her head turning to try to follow it. She wants to say his name, wants to respond, and has no idea how one does so, bound up as she is. The best she can do is a whimper.