[ My child, he says, and it ought to sting, but somehow it does not.
Instead, Lauralae leans forward and takes what is offered to her, heedless of any eyes that might dare to twist to look upon them. She has no room in her spirit for those that might offer her harsh words and cruelties, and when she is being given a gift... It is hard not to take it, to relish it for what it is, especially from someone who claims such fondness from her.
Her mouth wraps around him, tongue curling over the gentle ooze of his blood, and the sound she makes is more inhuman than anything she has given before. It is a growl, dangerous, and she presses closer, chasing the taste of it, the warmth of it, eyes close and basking in how delicious it is to her. ]
no subject
Instead, Lauralae leans forward and takes what is offered to her, heedless of any eyes that might dare to twist to look upon them. She has no room in her spirit for those that might offer her harsh words and cruelties, and when she is being given a gift... It is hard not to take it, to relish it for what it is, especially from someone who claims such fondness from her.
Her mouth wraps around him, tongue curling over the gentle ooze of his blood, and the sound she makes is more inhuman than anything she has given before. It is a growl, dangerous, and she presses closer, chasing the taste of it, the warmth of it, eyes close and basking in how delicious it is to her. ]