i'm not interested in being ash. you're in control.
[ an unnecessary dig — she loves him just like embry loves him, but the difference is that a part of embry wants to defy ash at every turn where greer falls in line as his perfect submissive. she does it better than he does, which is why they're happy together, and embry is alone. it's as simple as a fairy tale with a perfectly moral ending, if morals involved spankings and ball gags.
but — shit. what if her rules do involve torturing him with the sight of someone else's mouth on her sweet cunt? what if she does want him to watch? as if he isn't already in this very specific hell, watching ash and greer giggle and laugh and kiss like goddamn honeymooners, twisting embry's brittle heart to pieces. both his first and second chance at love, lost. ]
order me to. better yet, cuff me to a chair and make me watch. i want to see what you're like when you're not with me.
[ she almost bites back a little too hard — of course he's not ash, no one could ever be ash, not for her — but in the same instant, she has the diametrically opposing thought of not wanting embry to be ash. she doesn't seek him out for the same reasons, doesn't want him for the same reasons, doesn't let her hands stray idly across herself when she's in bed alone for the same reasons. ]
Maybe I'm too selfish for that. Letting you watch. Maybe if I have you cuffed to a chair, I'd want to have you all to myself.
[ the images are fast and unrelenting — embry, his wrists bound behind him as she straddles him in that chair, indulging herself with a bit of personalized torment, denying him the right to touch her, kiss her, even as she uses him for her own pleasure, sinking down onto him, maybe even forbidding him from finishing until she's through — or from finishing at all.
it'd serve him right, she thinks, for leaving her to wake up alone that morning, with only his scent on her skin providing the coldest of comforts. turnabout is fair play. ]
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no subject
you're in control.
[ an unnecessary dig — she loves him just like embry loves him, but the difference is that a part of embry wants to defy ash at every turn where greer falls in line as his perfect submissive. she does it better than he does, which is why they're happy together, and embry is alone. it's as simple as a fairy tale with a perfectly moral ending, if morals involved spankings and ball gags.
but — shit. what if her rules do involve torturing him with the sight of someone else's mouth on her sweet cunt? what if she does want him to watch? as if he isn't already in this very specific hell, watching ash and greer giggle and laugh and kiss like goddamn honeymooners, twisting embry's brittle heart to pieces. both his first and second chance at love, lost. ]
order me to. better yet, cuff me to a chair and make me watch.
i want to see what you're like when you're not with me.
no subject
Maybe I'm too selfish for that. Letting you watch.
Maybe if I have you cuffed to a chair, I'd want to have you all to myself.
[ the images are fast and unrelenting — embry, his wrists bound behind him as she straddles him in that chair, indulging herself with a bit of personalized torment, denying him the right to touch her, kiss her, even as she uses him for her own pleasure, sinking down onto him, maybe even forbidding him from finishing until she's through — or from finishing at all.
it'd serve him right, she thinks, for leaving her to wake up alone that morning, with only his scent on her skin providing the coldest of comforts. turnabout is fair play. ]