Holy Grail || l.s.

Intro (Official Summary)

Warm, spit-soaked skin. Hard pleasure-pain as crescents form on his skin. Unrelenting gasps at every stroke and every delicious bite. 

It’s gritty and raw with nails digging into sweat-slicked skin and I feel the peak just beyond my fingertips. It’s only a few more inches of torture, of waiting, of gasping for that next inhale until I feel the prick on my fingertip and spike of lighting zinging through my bloodstream. It’s there, I know it, but no matter how much I want it –need it, I won’t. Not yet, when the high drives me wild with ecstasy and I feel every breath on my shoulder, and every groan on my pulse sends another mallet into my chest.

I’m tittering just at the edge, but this is the culmination of everything I’ve been waiting for and I need to hold out. 

I crave for this –I live for this. The high. The finger-curling pleasure that singes the ends of my nerves until it zaps apart the last thread of coherency I have managed. It brings me to the sky’s limit with every sharp inhale with every harsh thrust, and it’s glorious. He bites and I respond as our breaths mingle in a dance of heat and passion with sharp teeth grazing over my overly sensitive skin like flame to a moth –I follow. I crave.

I need.

I need and I want. I receive and I give. 

I give and give because everyone deserves pleasure. Everyone wants pleasure. I see it in their eyes –just behind the veil of doubt, I see the fire of danger and excitement, and it pulls me in. No, it drags me by the base of my neck, asphyxiating me with the lack of air at the weight of the stare. And I comply –I happily oblige. Because they want. They need.

And I need. I need it like the itch right under my skin after another drink. I need it like the bitterness and ash of nicotine. I need it like the rush of cold liquid down someone’s veins and I need like a moth to a flame –like air. It’s addiction. It’s obsession. It’s the same word laced with desperation and passion –like the smooth glide of skin on skin, and the rough tug of calloused hands over sensitive thighs. It’s the teasing lick at every nook and cranny, over purpled veins and thin skin.

And breaths –the moist child of mouths gliding over each other in a fierce dance of dominance and submission, of raking nails and burning eyes. Until I feel the tightening of muscles, and the deep sated groan of pleasure in my ear, as hips snap erratically, and white invades the back of my eyelids like a veil of what must be heaven on earth. And it spikes as I reach the precipice, up and up before I feel my feet reaching the end of the cliff. There’s a slow burn right under my navel as I feel the receding shockwaves of pleasure and I feel a slow, tired smile on my face.

Holy grails will follow you wherever you go, like ghosts and phantoms that haunt and remind you of the pleasure you’ve been craving over and over again until you escape it’s burnt edges.

But they never let you go like a never ending maze of smoke and mirrors. Until you’re trapped.

Until you’re addicted.

Until you’re obsessed.

Until you need.

Now, it’s your turn.

A/N:

This is our new story. We're hoping you enjoy this one.

It's not as heavy as Torment, although, it is angsty. We want our readers to post comments as much as possible for us to have the 'drive' to continue this short story.

It's not going to be long, maybe, maximum of thirty to fifty chapters.

We will officially post the first chapter if this gets over five comments and at least five votes as well.