My first tarot-card-style illustration, made for my Patrons last month! If you’re interested in supporting my art in return for some neat rewards, check out my profile for a link to my Patreon. 🙂
Bringing this back for @alistairappreciationweek! I’ll be reblogging some of my faves out of all the Alistair’s I’ve drawn to celebrate this wonderful event, and you can obviously expect some Alistair themed dailies this week. :*
Also I should mention: there’s now prints of this available on my new Etsy store!
It’s alarming how little effort it takes for Rylen to take you to bed. Just that smile that’s really half smirk, and a dirty joke in that husky Starkhaven lilt, and you fall straight into his bed, because of course you do. It might be embarrassing if he wasn’t so damned charming.
There’s nothing else in the Approach that’s good, so Rylen becomes your oasis. A calm in a storm of sand and blood. Relief, and release, and the chance to see that expression on his face –– dark-eyed with arousal, and that shit-eating grin –– as he crooks his finger at you from across the Griffon Wing courtyard. And you go to him, because of course you do, though you barely make it to his quarters before he’s on you, hands and mouth making quick work of your clothes, and what remains of your senses.
The Approach is always hot, a land baked harsh and dry, but it is nothing like the searing heat of his mouth as it finds the back of your neck, and slides down your spine, teeth scraping slightly as he works his way lower, and lower, until he bites the bare curve of your ass.
Rylen is an ass man, through and through. He loves eating it. Spanking it. Riding it, as though he’ll die if he doesn’t, as if it’s the only thing that gives him breath, or life, or joy.
“I can’t wait to ravish you.” He growls against your skin, as he bends you over, and palms the rounds of your ass apart. When he’s excited Rylen’s voice drops nearly an octave in pitch, and his accent grows endlessly broad. The deep, resonant noises he makes when he eats you, sound like nothing so much as thunder. The rolling rumble of his Rs, nearly vibrate you out of your skin. You arch against him, crying out, while his hands dig bruises into your hips trying to hold you steady.
“Please, please, please please please please ––”
He never lets you come like this. Never. He loves too much the feel of you, the sight of you, coming on his cock. So he stands, chin slick, and rolls you to your back, so he can watch your expression as he works you open with long, slick fingers. “Ready, love?” You’re not, not entirely, but he wants you to feel it when he presses the blunt head of his cock inside you. “Yes… feel how hard I am for you. See how wide you stretch for me?”
He whispers filth as he rocks against you. Swears. Strains. Pulls out at intervals so he can taste himself on your skin, before pulling you down on his cock again. And it’s good, so so good that you all you can do is shiver and shake as he does it all over again. Tongue. Cock. Tongue. Cock. On, and on, ‘till time stops and you can barely breathe from wanting, needing –– you’re not sure if you come, or if he builds a hurricane beneath your skin and lets it rampage through you –– back bowed in a single arch of pleasure.
Rylen owns you like this, body and soul. Even as he groans mightily and falls forward, grinding you into the damp bed sheets, as he pours himself into you. The helpless sounds he makes are so heavily slurred you can barely understand him. “…love… Maker… love you…”
Your heart does an absurd little flip-flop in your chest, because if you’re honest, he’s not just the best thing in the Approach… he’s the best thing in your life.
And you fall in love with him, because of course you do.
Mayerine 