[Mature?] // Rhonen

[Nihlus]

There's holes inside of him, ones he cannot fill. Left there by his own doing no doubt (by his useless wanderings, by his constant complaining, by the distance he placed between himself and his family). Holes that, as time wore on, stopped being fashionable and began to tug at his skin in an uncomfortable way until it began to tear.

Imagine, a boy torn to shreds by loneliness.

Today, that loneliness drives him to the meadow. To an area that, without rhyme or reason, had not been affected by the Reckoning. Perhaps it is here that the stallion finds the most sense of being home - that, if he walked out of the northern exit, maybe he would find himself home again. In the Tundra, with his brothers, his family, even if all he accomplished there was less than nothing.

But there is no Tundra north of here. And he doesn't care what there is in its stead.

He chooses a spot that can barely even be called the meadow, in the end. Far away from where the usual bustle is, and not on a path where some might enter or depart. A sort of dissociated place: at once familiar and foreign. Some trees are nearby, casting their shadows across his muscled back in the late afternoon sun.

He sighs.

Nihlus

that's all I want

@[Rhonen]
I tried to make a more feeling-y post for you ;*

[Rhonen]

rhonen

molten eyes and a smile made for war

He makes his home in the common lands. At this point he knows every inch of the Forest and the River, but like Nihlus, he prefers the Meadow. It is unchanged from a time before, a time when Rhonen too had something to live for. He had tried to settle, even sired a child, but Sylva and the wily Karaugh had turned out less to his taste than he’d hoped, and he’d left before his daughter was even born. Atrani was a stronger tie, but he often lost the skeleton-girl; their reunions were always joyful but they didn’t seem able to stay together for any length of time either.

The end result, of course, is that he’s alone.

The copper boy doesn’t do particularly well with being alone, despite an often self-imposed exile from society. He shared a womb, after all, and a childhood with his twin, and so became accustomed to constant companionship at an early age. Add in having an older sister, and two doting parents, and you got a young man who really was at his best surrounded by loved ones. His solitary life now is taking a toll, but he doesn’t know how to fix it.

Rhonen is asleep, tucked deep into the shadow of a tall tree, curled up into a small shape that belies his real size. The sound of an approach wakes him and he is still for a moment (maybe they will pass him by) – when it is clear their paths will cross, he blinks away the last of his sleep and unfolds his long white legs while the unknown horse sighs heavily, heaving himself to his feet as gracefully as sixteen hands of equine can to face the stranger, fully expecting to be taller, or at least as tall, as anyone who could come across him in the Meadow. At a full sixteen hands, most of the residents of Beqanna fall below his own height, and he has learned to use it to his advantage.

So imagine his surprise when the stranger towers over him, instead.

The coppery stallion covers his rush of sudden interest with a scowl, but he can’t cover up the way he surveys the stranger from ear to hoof with a curiosity he can’t explain. “Do you always wake people up from perfectly good naps, bumbling around?” When in doubt, cover up any and all emotions with sharp words. The sharper the words, the better it works; but the boy’s gentle upbringing always seems to keep him from saying the harshest things his mind comes up with.

[Nihlus]

They're too alike, in many ways. 'Self-imposed exile from society' is actually the name of Nihlus' indie band. And like Rhonen, he too had shared the womb - with two others, a sister and a brother. Life back then had been somewhat rocky, what with mum having to deal with the fact that each of her children had a different father, and that she was madly in love with one of them to boot. But all in all, Nihlus did love his siblings, and yes, back then, he had been more civilized than now.

But where's the fun in civilization? He'd never known, as demonstrated by his affection for a kingdom of hermits.

He's been stuck in his own mind, enjoying the way the wind blew the tree tops so whimsically, when the grass behind him rustles. A keen, glowing-blue eye turns to appraise the figure that rises from the earth. Red-skinned, tall (but still small enough to fit comfortably beneath Nihlus, should the opportunity present itself), muscular, and with a mouth to boot. A cocky grin is slashed across the Warlander's face, his eyes greedily scouring the stranger's body, knowing that he too is being so thoroughly checked out.

"Only when they're as lovely to look at as you." He's stepping forward then, swelling his chest, purposefully looking down his nose into the other stallion's brilliant eyes. The need for touch hasn't forced his hand yet, but there's a hunger in his eyes, a hidden meaning in the almost imperceptible tilt of his head and smirk of his lips. "The question is, are you always this difficult to find?"

He cocks a brow, smiles wider. "A right meadow nymph, I'll allow."

Nihlus

that's all I want

[Rhonen]

rhonen

molten eyes and a smile made for war

He has not been in this position before. He loved Atrani but Atrani is like his sister – he loved her like he loves his twin, would protect her with his last breath, just like Aubri. And he didn’t love Karaugh. He didn’t even pursue Karaugh – she pursued him, she knew what she wanted, and Rhonen just went along for the ride. A man has hormones, after all.

But now, standing in front of this stranger, Rhonen feels something. Feels pinned beneath the other boy’s blue gaze, though not in a threatened sort of way. Maybe he feels a little nervous, maybe there’s a weird churning in his stomach, but he wouldn’t call any of the feelings ‘bad’. Unfamiliar, yes, but not in a way he dislikes. The other stallion steps closer, drawing himself to his full height, and his words make the copper stallion hesitate only a moment, drowning his first instinct to grin at the stranger because he refuses to be that easy, not in making friends and not in…whatever this is.

He doesn’t want friends (or whatever) who can’t handle the rougher moments of a man haunted by nightmares and regrets, and so it’s easier to let them see the grumpy side of him first. Too bad that’s all most of them every get to see. “I suppose you would know,” he allows himself to say, in lieu of the smile, running his dark eyes across the other stallion’s body again, because he is a fine-looking piece of horseflesh. Rhonen considers himself a connoisseur of beautiful people, though he usually takes his fill of looking from afar.

Rhonen isn’t quite sure what he’s doing as he steps closer to the dark stallion; closing the distance so they are just not touching. He can feel the warmth coming from the stranger and it’s slightly intoxicating, making it harder to keep the frown on his face and the dark look in his eyes. The other calls him a meadow nymph, and some part of his subconscious shamefully registers that as not right. He isn’t anything so beautiful as that; he carries the seal of a demon inside himself and his touch can bring disease. He isn’t anything as light and pure as something associated with protecting the natural world.

(He always forgets that he carries the seal to keep it locked away; that he was willing to die in that quest to protect the natural world).

And anyway, his mind seems to be split between telling this stranger not to touch him, he’s cursed, and begging for the opposite. “I’m not difficult to find. The answer is nobody is usually looking.” Rhonen tries not to quiver as he considers closing the distance between them but waits for the other stallion to make the first move; he’s not a hundred percent sure what’s happening, and he doesn’t want to embarrass himself by making the first move and having his instincts be totally wrong. “I’m Rhonen, by the way.”

[Nihlus]

The copper stallion lobes an equally tension-packed phrase back to Nihlus, accompanied with another scouring of his body. Although this other stallion refuses to smile (but oh, he knows that a part of him wants to), Nihlus allows himself that pleasure, comfortable in this area whereas the other is still unsure.

Nihlus has never minded being the leader, at least when it came to such... Fun, scenarios.

He inhales audibly at Rhonen's next move, his smirk widening, approval writ all across his face. "My, my," he murmurs, exchanging bated breath with the stranger, feeling his innards and head twirl as if through another dimension. Intoxicating, indeed. And those dark eyes, flinty in their attempt to maintain a guard against his approach - Nihlus gazes into them pointedly, then glances to the stallion's rounded haunches, and back again. A snap of electricity runs through him - and they haven't even touched yet.

"Well, they're all missing out." He tilts his head, inches forward as if to trace the delicate bones of the chestnut's face - then reconsiders, pulling back with a knowing smile. "Then again, I wasn't looking either..."

"Which makes it you, who found me." His voice is syrupy, low, a drawl of the most sensual kind. "I'm not used to being pursued by such handsome men. You've got me... flustered." It's clear by his piercing gaze and powerful stance that he is no such thing, but oh, that's the point, isn't it? He couldn't have chosen a better day to bumble.

I'm Rhonen, by the way.

"Nihlus," the dark bay offers. "But you can call me whatever you'd like, sweetheart."

There's still space between them, though far less than before. Each stallion's head is tucked to their necks, side by side with the other, tilted inwards at the muzzle. Nihlus moves as if to lip the stallion's sensitive nose, but all he gets is another warm exhale, buffeting his nerve endings and teasing the embers in his stomach into a flame.

Oh, how fun, to toy.

Nihlus

that's all I want

[Rhonen]

rhonen

molten eyes and a smile made for war

It’s as if Nihlus’ words are coming to Rhonen through a thick fog. He can hear and understand him, but his body is thrumming with the knowledge of being so close, a faint ringing in his ears, and damn if he isn’t more distracted then he’s ever been in his whole life. In general, he’s not particularly distractible. Moody, yes. Abrasive, yes. Foolish about his own safety, absolutely. Distracted? Not very often. But the tiny amount of space left between the two of them is more than he can distance himself from. The imagining of what if – what if there wasn’t any space? In between a slew of words that Rhonen tucks away in his memory for later inspection, Nihlus leans in not once but twice, closing the gap to a hairsbreadth before pulling away again.

Rhonen had forgotten what it was like to be teased, by anyone. For a moment his twin’s voice, light and teasing, threatens to distract him from the other stallion, but then memory of Aubri fades and all that is left is Rhonen, and Nihlus, and the fog that nearly crackles with invisible energy.

“Nihlus,” he repeats and if his eyes have gone a little unfocused with the pressure, well, who can blame him. He isn’t used to playing this game at all, much less at his companion’s advanced level. Rhonen needs to close the gap, to snap the rubber band of building intensity, the dense fog that is pressing down on him. So, he smiles, and for the instant before they touch it is the sweet smile of the boy he might have grown up to be, the boy that Natilyn and Mikhael would have raised him to be, if everything had gone to plan.

He slides his muzzle down Nihlus’ neck, breathing in his scent, and presses his body to the darker stallion’s. When they touch, the fog lifts instantly in a crackle of electricity, and still he has butterflies in his stomach but his brain has cleared and his grin turns mischievous just before he nips at the other stallion’s haunch (not enough to injure, but maybe it’s more than a nibble, that’s just the way he is) and dances away, laughter now reflecting in his dark eyes to match the cheerful smirk on his face. “I think a nymph should be harder to catch than this,” he says as he backs slowly away.

[Nihlus]

Just before they finally allow the pent up electricity to flood between them, a smile drifts across the dazed man's pretty face, one that Nihlus almost regrets tainting with the touch of his sinful muzzle; this man, this boy, he has a story just like Nih's, one that could be learned and admired. For a split second, he considers stopping this dizzying exchange of sexually-implicit words, considers Rhonen as a man and not meat, considers --

But then there's this mouth on his, and god, his body begging for a closeness that Nihlus is always happy to give. With a low burr of want and approval, the taller stallion reaches out (though he needn't reach far considering their proximity) and peels back his lips to rake his teeth against Rhonen as his nymph-like little body slithers past, a snake if there ever was one.

"Fuck..."

His haunch stings and before he can retaliate, the sly stallion is dancing away, wiggling his bum as flirtatious stallions like him are so wont to do. And god, how they do it well - this one especially. An open-mouthed leer stretches Nih's original smirk, and without hesitation he wheels around and canters to close the distance between them, pulling up just as he chest bumps together with the other, his head snaking up to find the soft membranous tissue of Rhonen's little Arabian ear.

"Little nymphs shouldn't disobey their masters."

The fire in the pit of his stomach has grown into an inferno, and it shows by his arousal, which protrudes proudly from between his powerful legs. There's a salty taste to the inside of Rho's ear, and for a moment he's stuck there enjoying it, but such simplicities are never enough to satisfy him. Especially after being teased so royally, by someone who's both new at this, and far better even than the veterans of the game.

Bringing his lips down to trace the length of the chestnut's tapered face, Nihlus pivots his hind quarters around until the two come hip to hip. The haze that Rhonen had found himself in before they touched now claims Nihlus, driven past the edge and onto something far more exciting. His breath comes heavily, teeth grabbing at the flesh of Rhonen's shoulder as his legs position themselves to mount.

With a gruff exhale, the stallion shifts his weight to his hind legs and takes Rhonen's whithers roughly between his teeth. The pressure is not light, but by the way the chestnut's eyes had been like pools of fire, Nih's sure he won't mind the little reprimand at his disobedience. His forelegs grasp the smaller stallion easily, and they drag him closer until the two are just touching - not yet connected, but enough to drive both of them wild.

"Is this where you want me, nymph?" His voice is a low growl; carnal.

Without waiting for an answer, he thrusts, and grins at the sound that the motion elicits from Rhonen's darling lips.

Nihlus

that's all I want

@[Rhonen] So, I was writing this over the course of an hour because I'm busy up and down, so when I went to preview before posting, I thought this post was only four paragraphs...
Oops.