Vishously Wet

*Am I really going to do this? Worried emerald eyes turn back to the shallow pool encased into the marble floor, the water chilled, no inviting steam rising from its still surface, like the Seeing Bowls. Utterly flat until a disturbance ripples the liquid into images to my eyes...The droning song of the ritual prayers rises in the dead silence, weighing my decisions as I calculate just how long the sisters will be occupied with the rote words, the reverent hush accompanied by lilting voices...grace and elegance abandoned for haste, bare feet free me from the confines of the sequestered temple in a soft padding leap, skipping steps in my rush for the communal pools, a worrying exhilaration speeding up my heartbeat and panting in my lungs. This must be what freedom tastes like, how it feels. It's been so long that even the utter white of the buildings, the grass, the sky, everything, can not dull the pleasure of leaving the temple I call home. The one thing I truly missed. Not my sisters, not being here, outside. But the beauty of the pools, the shared baths an exquisite expanse of carved marble and luxuriously hot water, a tumbling warm waterfall that could beat out the tension of rigid routine. I now deemed it worthy of the risk. Darting past the sculpted white of large Corinthian columns, skittering across the polished floors, the landscape changes slowly, turning from inane and maddeningly perfect, to stunning peace. Heart quieting to follow the rhythmic rush of heavy water, I am enclosed in the sultry heat curling from the deep pools, a steam that caresses through to the bone with the promise of calm and drowns out all sound...no chanting, no talking. Silence in a wash of white water noise. Perfect. Seen a million times before, the stunning set of the baths is as pleasing to my eyes as the first time, a comfort, a home away from home, torn from me when I took my vows. I will return to it once more. Even for as short a time as the prayers continue. Silk slips to the floor in a shush of diaphanous robing. And water embraces me in the welcoming lick of wet heat and the wildness of peace. Winding deliciously through tight curves as I sink deep*

{The sinewed muscles of my outstretched arms stand out in hard relief as I heft open the mammoth doors of the Primale temple, the glaringly glacial whiteness of the Other Side hurting my retinas. In the distance of the bleached out acropolis, I can just make out the line of Chosen filing away through the colonnaded walkways of the Sanctuary, clutching their strings of black worship pearls. Baring ivory hardware on a tiger yawn, stretching out the aches in my abused muscles, gorged on all the sugar and spice of them...but ultimately left unsatisfied…the Chosen are vanilla, insubstantial as cloud and froth, where my carnal desires prefer to feast on deeper, darker niches of the psyche, my hunting ground not this pastoral nirvana, but the dark forests of fairy tales, where there be monsters...with teeth... and whips and...running my tongue down the length of one long canine... no need to feed on the Other Side, true. Thank fuck I could still fight, had made becoming Primale conditional upon it...the aggressive black overspill of my sadistic cravings was going to need a release.  Cinching the silk tie of the robe low on my hips, bare feet crushing a path across the clipped white grass towards the baths, the bene of the Chosen's communal worship of mommy dearest being guaranteed alone time to wash the sweetness of their floral scents and ritual incense off my skin..Fuck...thinking the Taj Majal got nothing on this joint, my feet carrying me through the marble archway, and it’s like stepping into some scene from classical antiquity}

*lounging in the pounding stream of water, perched on the shallow cut marble bench carved into the walls of the pool, I am adrift in sensation, licked at by liquid tongues, the cleansing stroke of lapping water soothing over my skin, flashing porcelain under the surface, the wispy threads of my under-sheath flowing out like extra limbs, a many tentacled thing wrapping my body in wet fabric and tickling slick flesh as the pound of the water thuds on, massaging into my back with heavy force, kneading fists of water easing out tense knots ...my head snaps up in a whip of raven hair, the lashing length twining around submerged curves in a protective cover as emerald eyes dart a search through the light rain of water curtaining around my body. Frozen, as still as the marble columns framing the baths, my breath stalls...and rushes from my lungs. Oh Dear Virgin, no...not my sisters stepping into the bathing sanctuary, no, it is so much worse and yet my eyes cannot avert, as frozen as my body and stuck on the mammoth male gracing the elegance of the pools...The Primale. I'd seen him of course...in the bowls....flat images that did nothing to portray the reality of him. Tall, he'd tower over me, broad, he'd dwarf me, his body lined full of heavy muscle...he'd break me as easily as breathing. And all of that in a golden-skinned masculine form that speaks of war and power, and....my eyes dip as his silk bares inches more to my gaze, the muscled lines of his hips forcibly directing my sights lower...to fix and hitch and stumble over my own breath observing the utter masculinity of him, his silks cast aside, exposing...everything. And I pray to the Virgin Scribe that all of my sisters were hooded when he took them. If they saw him like this, I may be persuaded to violence. Quieting the thought, stifling a growl that had become all too frequent, fingers toy with the floating ends of my hair, inching slowly from my perch and praying the Primale is half blinded by the steam, hidden in the depths of the pools caress*

{The first thing to hit me is the incredible scent, none of the chlorine bite of a regular pool, no, this is like stepping out of a sweaty bar and into a rainforest, a scent like rain falling on dry ground, or the static crackling in the air after a wild electrical storm, the kind of scent that flicks all kinds of internal switches to the 'ON' position...Primed. That's the word...stepping out of my robes with quick efficiency, feet submerged in the balmy water..damn its hot caress feels good on aching muscle as I descend the Roman steps, wading deeper into the pool, the laws-of-physics defying waterfall a dull roar in my ears, and that's when I spot the flash of black, camouflaged by the streaking cascade of the water, head whipping around to lock my sights on the Chosen, hard diamond clashing with emerald green fire...the breath stalls in my lungs and the world stops spinning on its axis momentarily, as though pausing to take in the Chosen, wispy tendrils of raven black hair escaping their pins and curling wetly around the alabaster column of her throat, where the rapid beat of her pulse is visible, struck suddenly by an arresting vision of my fangs locking into all that luscious, virgin flesh...and lower, the Chosen's thin robe plastered wet, shaping every curve...Instant fucking hard on...suppressing the growl rising up from some unfathomably deep primal place inside of me to speak in tight, gravelled words} Come here, Chosen...

*Lips trembling a protest, my body obeys, grateful of the water's concealing depth, thinly sheathed curves hidden from the Primale's view in ripples of liquid movement. Caught, trapped, unable to deny the power of the Primale, I must maintain grace in the face of a wild nervousness, a humming under my skin that draws me from the waterfall and increases a steady buzz in direct proportion to proximity to him....as though my body is more than just a vessel for my soul, but is truly alive in his presence, even the stray escaped strands of my hair drift towards him with the reaching floats of my under-robe, emerald eyes seeking into diamond, judging the severity of the punishment…but I read nothing. Nothing but the ethereal fire of the Primale's otherworldly gaze sculpting slick curves in a strange light of an indefinable emotion...tentative, eyes lowered* Verily, please, my apologies, Your Grace..

{Fighting against something I can't even begin to comprehend, a primal magnetism that hardens my body to aching steel and demands touch...gloved hand rising up from the water to grip your delicate jaw in a bruising hold of wet hide} Verily Chosen, I am nobody's 'Grace'. You call me Sire or Lord or...Lheage..{a dark light flickering across diamond eyes, the prospect of hearing 'that' word from your wet, trembling lips stirring the blood in my veins to a feverish lust}

*startled at the rough grip, I force my eyes to stay to the water as leather bound fingers sculpt my jaw, heart thumping a stutter at the touch, lungs struggling to take in air in the presence of you...Primale...warrior....massive, naked male.  I pray that the steamy atmosphere swirling around us can conceal the light bloom of heat rising through my blood,  that the sweet scent riding the air is not coming from the sudden ache in my centre. Sure my cheeks are burning, it is a fight to control my voice* Forgive me, your...Sire...*eyes kept low, barely lifting my lashes to roam my gaze over your face, trapped by leather* there is a title of preference to you? I would use what pleases you most...*thought unbidden,  images creep across my mind. My tongue at your vein, your hip...your....would please most*

{Pivoting your face from side to side in the wet grip of my fingers, half-lidded diamond gaze appraising your features, something so familiar…yet...threads of deep buried memories snatched from my grasp, supplanted by the lust pounding with the quickening of my pulse at the flush blooming in your cheeks as I catch the flavour of erotic images playing in your mind...carnal knowledge a Chosen should not possess...and fuck it intrigues and excites me. Swallowing back a growl, my voice thick with arousal} You please me well, Chosen…you have ...spirit, true. Anything but Grace..I am not graceful, nor am I a clergyman, perverted though my ways may be {And fuck knows right now my thoughts are all about sinking my teeth into you and defiling that luscious, wet draped body of yours with sweaty, filthy acts of erotic perversion...}

*You look at me and fire replaces water, there is no cold, only the blast of raging heat in my veins, turning blood to flames of...something...What I have seen, the breathlessness, the flush of heat, the tremor of excitement in the flat watery images I have watched so long, all now bearing my form in this cage of mist and sultry...arousal. A word read and never understood until it coils through my body. My thighs lock to keep from trembling, to trap in the heat pooling low as diamond eyes seek out the desires hidden in the glow of emerald, penetrating through to touch on illicit images caressed to life from the darkest recesses of my mind...my voice low, a trill of practiced subservience laced with a fire of arousal* It pleases me to please you, sire, and if I may address you as my lord and sire, my lheage may be earned...on my part of course...perversion is only perverse in the eyes of the ignorant..

Mmmm you are a feast for the eyes and a quick study too... {gloved thumb caressing your cheekbone, diamond eyes penetrating,  devouring the jewelled emerald intelligence staring back at me with a raw hunger that is distinctly un-Chosen like} the Directrix has instructed you well, Chosen, I may call upon you soon, true...your Lord and Sire is pleased..