Chapter 96: Claimed in the Frozen Pond: The Dragon’s Wedding Gift (R18)
Adrei sunk into her wife’s lips, just as Demond’s sunk in with hers. They hugged each, sought each other, coiled into each other, for in this eternal iceland, only them will remain in the frozen passion.
Perhaps it is the proposal, or perhaps it is the fruit of having their loves confirmed in such idealised, dreamlike sequence, the Witch’s lips left the dragon’s as she peeked at Adrei, her wet robes in the cold water shuddering as she groped the collar.
Adrei widened her eyes as the Witch flung aside the hat, then the robe, the bare frame so smooth, so tender...so her claw quickly dug into her robe as she settled it aside to the pond, both their robes abandoned in the water as their lips crashed into each other again.
Lips against lips, cherries against cherries, fierceness against sweetness, all melded in the heated exchanges as their tongues darted for each other, their hands roaming behind each’s back, aching, itching, and etching into each other a frosted love, a heated passion.
The woods sang no requiems, the pond rippled no warcries, just two enemies of old ravaging each other for their greed, for their hunger, for their insatiable desire. Adrei’s hand crept from her wife’s back, her head leaning deeper as her tongue invaded her wife’s cavern, as her finger grasped her wife’s cherry.
The Witch’s eager hips strutted against the grasp, the carrass, the tickles, all tinging and molding her garden and fruit in a biotic mess of ravenous scatters, her mouth was a vehement mess as the Dragon’s tongue seeped, smacked and swirled, the embrace ever tightening for the each intense dance in the stage.
The possessive Tyrant’s daughter pulled the garden as the Witch yelped, the scaled arm still carrassing as her other arm reached into the water for the witch’s bum, toiling and toying into whatever shapes she desired.
The Dragon chuckled into the kiss as the witch whimpered, the wife’s cavern below constantly opened wide and closed forth, a spring that never could come so close yet could be, her water dripping down into the unfrozen pond, the glittery dust from Alice’s ice a scarring witness of their love affairs.
The Witch leaned more, her garden carrased more, her bum squeezed more, her tongue lashed more, and as the Witch muttered her husband’s name, the unshed tears drickling down to their kissing lips, the dragon groaned and traced the arm on her bum forward, as she reached for the cavern’s berrry dangled atop, ever ready for her first harvest.