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paint it black; nayl - Lior - 03-06-2017 He breathes against her skin, panting her name with gentle murmurs. She given herself to him in every whisper, every caress, every moment she called his name under the darkness of a night sky with only the stars to witness. He can feel himself collapsing into her. The large male holds her close with closed eyes. He had never known the act of making love to be gentle, to be willing. His father...his father had done terrible things... Lior pushes away from the memories, forcing them to the depths of his being. Right now, under the silver slip of moonlight, she is radiant with tussled mane, her skin slick with his sweat. "Nayl." His voice comes hushed from the thickness of her name of which he buried his face, he tries to calm the quiver in his voice, fearing what would happen next. He had never seen the vulnerability in her eyes before. He had never seen her give in to him... It would only be a matter of time before she moved on. But for now...for now he savors the delicious ache in his bones and the way their scents mingle under the starlight. figured i's start a new thread post coitus lol hope you don't mind RE: paint it black; nayl - Nayl - 03-06-2017
RE: paint it black; nayl - Lior - 03-09-2017 And this... Under the wakening eyes of the stars, against her skin, his own trembling against her touch, she talks of weakness. The dark male feels the way her lips move over his body like finger tips over ancient texts, making sense of the scars, the old ruins of his skin. Lior does not show a sway of emotion, silver eyes seeking the beautiful depths of her own. His jaws tightens, taunt skin slick under the moon light. She speaks of weakness...even to him. Does the painted queen still feel the need to show her power? To have him fear her? He would move mountains, realigned the constellations so one day they could be together forever amongst the gods and their heavens...but no...in this moment, between desperate breathes, reaching lips, she speaks of weakness. It is not weakness he has thought he has witnessed, cradled, captured. Lior, in all the rapture, had thought he had found her true self. A queen in their eyes but in his? In his, a tender word, a whispers of sweet words had been reflected in the mercury of his eyes. Lior does not turn away but he feels a pang in the muscle that inhabited the bone cage in his chest. Still, in this moment, she talks of power. Dark lobes twists as she folds into him, he gingerly places one leathery wing over her in a tentative embrace (he now must fear her rejection again in the simple statement that has dripped like honey from her lovely lips.) Lior presses his face against the curve of her neck, listening to the calm roar of her blood. "An heir..." His lips curl into an pleasant smile against her skin. The stallion is not interested in a legacy, so to speak, but a child of their own? He had never considered a child that was desired before. The times when he had been forced to copulate...that was of no will of his own. Lior continues to smile against her skin, resting his shoulder lightly against her. They could talk of vulnerabilities, of weakness and power at another time. For now, he decides to focus on the growing life in her womb. "Thank you." The gravel of his voice murmurs gently as he continues to smile against her skin, warm breath misting against the curve of her throat. A time would come when a discussion must take place that he knew would force her to make a decision but for now? For now he can pretend that she is not a queen and he is not a monster. For now they can be lovers under a pale moon. RE: paint it black; nayl - Nayl - 03-12-2017
RE: paint it black; nayl - Lior - 03-22-2017 The sky folds around them like warm black velvet as he rests against her, his heavy head allowed to be rests against her small back. He is content is this moment, listening to the vibration of her heart, the way she breathes so lightly. It's a lullaby in his ear but soon she speaks again and he swivels and ear so she knows that he is listening. She begins to speak but the words catch in her delicate throat. Lior can feel the way she is torn between what lays between them in their sky blanket bed and the call of Nerine. He would never ask her to chose. He would merely give (or take) as she saw fit. The dark male from from a Queensguard to her lover as her will. But her next words catch him, hold him, draw him away from the shows that lurk just behind his eyes. She wants him. All of him. But she doesn;t know the darkest parts of him. I want you to remember |