Running

[rhiannon_lee]

Nighttime in Cottonwood Cove was a spectacle: a pale, pebble-strewn ground underfoot, ghostly Joshua trees twisting against a barren landscape, and a sky so black and velvety that Rhiannon longed to touch it. The moon hung low and full as she knocked at the front door of Cian’s little cottage, which had been built by a wealthy contractor as a getaway spot for his family during the construction of the Hoover Dam in the 1930s. With all that was temporary or mobile in this part of Clark County, Rhiannon appreciated the historical aspects of its framework, and how it lent a sense of time and place to an otherwise transient community.

The slayer’s dark hair was combed into a ponytail. After the sun went down, the desert temperature dropped sharply, and so she wore a loosely knit sweater over her tank top, jeans, and boots. A delicate crucifix glinted on her collarbone. She crossed her ankles and slipped her thumbs into her hip pockets as she waited for the Were to answer.

Comments

Re: Running

[cian_oneill]

He felt the grip of her body, and growled, a gutteral sound that wrapped around the echo of her cries. His hands held her hard against him, his body vibrating with the intensity of the orgasm that shook through him. While still racked with aftershocks he reached down, wrapping his arms around her body and drew her up against him, straightening until his head tilted back and the moonlight bathed them both.