Teagan’s Marked by Chaos
Under moonlight, your Chaos Angel draws the sigil that seals devotion; control bleeds as art beneath my fingertip.
With a sensual smile, I ascend the bed, my movements deliberate, feral. You tremble, awaiting the branding that only I can bestow upon your supple flesh. The air is heavy with anticipation as I lean over you, my raven tresses cascading like night itself.
I start at your temple, tracing the curve of bone with wicked intent. My nail etches a path, a labyrinth of submission, as the crimson line blooms across your ivory skin. Moonlight bathes us in an ethereal glow, illuminating the dark promise of what’s to come.
I glide downward, my calloused touch leaving a searing kiss upon your neck. Your pulse thrums beneath my lips, a cadence I learn to manipulate with every stroke. The sigil on your chest blossoms, a fiery emblem of your surrender.
As I move lower, my tongue tasting the salt of your skin, my fingers leave a trail of stinging beauty. The contours of your body become my canvas, each sigil a testament to my unyielding control. When I reach your inner thigh, the line of my blood-red lipstick blurs with the flush of your skin.
I return to your lips, sealing the pact with a ravenous kiss, the metal of my tongue piercing the barrier of your mouth. As we break apart, I whisper, “You asked for chaos—I made you holy with it.” And in the moonlight, our bodies, now adorned with the sigils of our devotion, are forever bound by the sacred union of our dark desires.
