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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  you were a vision in the morning when the light came through, rhaegor (holiday party)
    #1
    you were a vision in the morning
    when the light came through,
    i know i've only felt religion
    when i've lied with you
    and i'm still waking every morning
    but it's not with you
    .


    She couldn’t stay away from him.

    There wasn’t a force strong enough to keep the brash, bold girl from stealing away from the coastal kingdom as the afternoon gave way to evening, no matter how much her father might have disapproved of it. She loved her father more than anything, unconditionally, but right now it was no match for the inferno that Rhaegor sparked inside of her whenever she saw him, or even thought about him. Leilan, and anyone else for that matter, could think her foolish and naive, and it would never change her mind; her heart could be broken a thousand times, and as long as it was the golden prince’s doing, she would gladly endure the agony.

    After seeing Rhaegor on the diplomatic visit, with him practically being dangled in front of her like some sort of cruel trick and hardly being able to even touch him, she knew that she wasn’t spending another night without him in Nerine. Before he had departed to speak with her father, he had murmured the words Island Resort into her neck as he quickly embraced her, and the very feel of his breath against her skin had sent her heart into a frenzy.

    Nothing would keep her from going to this party.

    The vibrant colors of the sunset had been hardly visible above the thick forests of Taiga, and by the time she breaks from the treeline and enters Tephra, it was nearly dark. For a moment, the glowing volcano in the distance distracts her, the smoldering mountain vibrant against the darkness of the sky. She was used to the mountains of Hyaline, cold and gray, and it was almost as though Tephra was its polar opposite. Despite being on the edge of autumn, it was warm as she traversed across the kingdom that Rhaegor now made his home in, and there was a part of her that couldn’t help but to wonder if she was even going back to Nerine.

    When she finally reaches the twilight bridge that stretched across the expanse of water that would take her to Island Resort, she suddenly stops. Apprehension tightens her face, a heavy, sinking feeling in her heart when she thinks back to the Hyaline party. She had been just as excited for that as she was now, because of him, and yet his attention had been so quickly pulled from her. Things were always so different when they were alone; just like it had been before, and what if it is still the same? What if when there are so many other pretty faces laid before him, she is still not enough, like she hadn’t been back then?

    She had been biting her lower lip without realizing it, a nervous habit she sometimes had when she was too lost in her thoughts. Someone else brushes past her, awakening her from her anxiety-riddled daydream, and with a trembling sigh, she steps onto the bridge. She had to at least try; she had to give him – them – one more chance to prove that this was real.

    The coolness of the winter wonderland is refreshing compared to the humidity of Tephra when she steps off the bridge, the snow crunching beneath her hooves. It reminds her of Icicle Isle, and she cannot help but to smile, a giddy excitement suddenly sweeping through her at the sight of the glittering snow and the illuminating lights. There were more horses here than she had expected, but she isn’t looking at them; her eyes are scanning quickly over them, searching for the only face she cared to see. He had promised that he would wait for her just over the bridge, and for a moment she is worried that he has already become distracted, perhaps seeing someone else he knew and getting swept away.

    But a small crowd shifts to the side, and as they part, she finds him. When her eyes settle on his, her heart jumps, and she wonders if it will always do that every time she sees him – she hopes it will.  Her black lips lift into a smile, her gaze ducking almost shyly for just an instant, before she walks towards him, her blue body a stark contrast against the bright white snow. She doesn’t know why seeing him here feels different than seeing him in Nerine, but something about it feels brand new. Despite her sudden demure attitude, she doesn’t hesitate to press against him, her delicate chest against his and her nose burrowing in the tangles of his mane. ”Rhae,” She would never tire of saying his name, and when she pulls away she lets her muzzle trail against his cheek, before her lips caress the groove of his jaw and she murmurs teasingly, ”I’m implementing a new rule,” she pauses to meet his gaze, her dark brown eyes glittering despite the somber way in which she says, ”You’re not allowed to come to Nerine on diplomatic visits, since it’s a form of torture to not be able to touch you.”


    chryseis


    @[Rhaegor]
    Reply
    #2

    Rhaegor

    the playboy

    Ever since that nightmare of a kingdom visit in Nerine, Rhae has been hard at work.

    Of course, his first duty came by the name of Magnus, to whom he attempted to profusely apologize while they travelled back to Tephra. While the king accepted the apology, thereby acknowledging that Rhae had been somewhat at fault, he had done so with a wane smile. Clearly, the ancient one had dealt with much larger issues, and would not be put off by things as simple as love-struck teenagers and over-protective dads. By Rhaegor’s estimations, it had been probably a hundred or a thousand years since Magnus had been either of those things.

    Thus, with task one out of the way, Rhae set immediately to task two, that being made up of a plethora of many smaller tasks. Having whispered the site of the party into Chryseis’ ear that day in Nerine, and having seen the way her heart broke in its ribbed cage when Leilan had spoken so rudely to the man she loved, Rhse knew exactly what he had to do.

    Early the morning of the party, when the other more talented crafters were hard at work, Rhae slipped from Tephra to the Island Resort. He’d cleared this day off with Magnus earlier, utterly abashed, but delighted to be enabled in his quest for love; if Mag were smart, however, he would know that by letting Rhae go about his romantics (romantic antics?), he may very well come into the possession of an icy, passionate young woman willing to serve their volcanic nation.

    Or maybe he’s just a sucker for young love.

    Either way, sunset met Rhae on the other side of the twilight bridge – though it looked more like a panel than a bridge right now, made only for accessibility and not yet for decoration. Grinning from ear to ear and eyeing the way the snow fell and immediately melted atop his nose, the coltish stallion burst forth into the forest, gleefully unaware of the fact that he could do next to nothing without the help of one of the snow-fabricators.

    Luckily, he eventually found one, and set about asking for their help decorating a private thicket, near the north-eastern point of the island. Although he had arrived early, by the time they were halfway done realizing the vision he’d had for this spot, he worried that they would never finish. Of course, this fear was horribly unfounded, and by the time they finished, he still had an hour to wait before Chryseis’ arrival. What on earth would he do?

    Well, get to the spot where he’d promised to meet her, for starters.

    Feeling as light as air (thanks largely to the generosity of a Tephran healer), Rhaegor raced across the land, barely seeing all the other fancy things put up along the way. Tufts of snow flew up behind him as he ran, and he wished for all his worth that he could spread his wings and fly; but the mottled appendages were useless in their current state, having suffered the worst of the symptoms given to him from the contagion. For now, he would settle for running; for the feel of the magically-cool air ripping through his mane and lungs.

    Directly ahead of the bridge now, Rhaegor halted; and here, he waited for arrival with nervous anticipation.

    --

    Rhae!

    At the sound of his name, the stallion starts, half-rearing in an attempt to see atop the ocean of intermingling strangers. While some have stopped to try and say hello, the male’s broody silence and feisty eyes sends them away rather effectively, a tool which he will have to remember for other times. Now, however, his countenance changes completely. The shadow lifts from his brow, revealing cool brown eyes which glitter silver in the snowy moonlight; and beneath his nose, his lips bend lovingly, their expression a mixture of exaltation and bliss. 

    “My girl,” is all the boy has a chance to utter before that selfsame creature barrels adoringly into him. He chuckles at her forcefulness, reminded sweetly of their first meeting, that day in Hyaline; he vividly sees the way her squinting eyes gave him a once-over, and feels the abrupt change from ice to warmth when she decided to smile upon him. Not able to speak any more due to the presence of so many others, Rhae only grins himself and burrows into the sweet-salty smell of his love, pulling her close one last time before allowing her to run her lips across his skin.

    Don’t get used to being in control, darling, he thinks into her mind, utterly unable to resist the impulsive words as they blossom in the admittedly rated-R part of his consciousness. As she pauses in the hollow of his jaw, he slips the supple flesh of her own neck into his lips, sucking and biting it gently. No goddamn-marks, goddamn-Leilan-fucker… Not yet, anyway. I will take very good care of you.

    Acting as though he hadn’t just used his telepathy on her for the first time, Rhae releases Chryseis’ and listens amusedly to what she says. When she banishes him from ever visiting, a glowering look comes over his visage, the roguish glint in his eyes now utterly undeniable. But, instead of pressing his idea of her moving with him to Tephra into her mind, he only cocks a brow in playful, teasing silence. After all, by the whispers in her mind, she is already thinking along those lines herself. Better for it to be her decision; he has had enough of asking women to come with him, and has had enough of the scorn that follows such questions.

    Instead, he makes a smaller, more anticipated request. Making sure to maintain side-long eye contact as he steps forward and past Chry, the pegasus brushes along her length, nose reaching to nudge her rump around such that she might follow him towards their destination.

    The journey north-eastward goes agonizingly slowly, but the man reassures himself that it will definitely be more agonizing for her than for him. As such, he adopts a suave disposition, pointing out each and every unique decoration and smiling warmly at each of her reactions. Occasionally he brushes the tip of his wing against the sensitive skin of her flank, but he always pulls away when she leans into him – always, until a particularly awe-some feature distracts him, and they end up side by side, his mottled wing strewn comfortably across the width of her spine, tucking around her rump to keep her warm. Not that the frosty girl needs it; in fact, get to close and she might just ice his face off.

    He doubts it, though.

    At long last, the entrance to their private thicket appears. To anyone except the two young lovebirds, it looks obsolete and uninteresting; but when Rhae steps forward, releasing Chry from his grasp, he knows that she will understand. Casting a final grin back in her direction, the male steps forward into an incredibly narrow passage, between a rock-face and many trees.

    Although he couldn’t create an exact replica of their Hyalinian plateau, he hopes that Chryseis will appreciate this small ode to their beautiful hideout. 

    Slipping free of the chasm, Rhae prances anxiously on the spot, waiting for his love to step through and to behold their little room.

    Overhead, hundreds of enchanted light-fixtures hang, each with a ball of softly glowing light encapsulated in pure, unmelting ice. The light reflects softly from one to the other, creating a dappled, star-like illumination within the thicket. Where trees would normally stand to enclose them, thin walls of ice stand, and upon each, an image: centrally, of Hyaline, their birth home. To the left, of Nerine, the kingdom of Chryseis’ sire; and to the right, Tephra, the kingdom of Rhaegor’s dam. Each image is painted in the best likeness that the magician who had helped him could do, but they were admittedly spot on.

    Gesturing eagerly, Rhae steps further into the room and then looks pointedly behind him. Where his hooves have just been, a warm yellow glow now sits, fading slowly; and upon closer inspection, they could each see the dots of light nestled all around them between the ground and the ice walls. Lastly, a small pile of things sits atop the snow-strewn earth; upon first inspection, they seem useless, but when Rhae bends to grab them each one at a time, they clearly are not.

    First, he speaks into her mind as he turns to face her, a feather from my wings so that I will be with you wherever you go. Reaching, he tucks the gold-and-blue thing into her mane, sweetly, and with care that he does not pull her hair in doing so (though such gentleness is not to be expected later).

    Second, a piece of ice which has been enchanted to taste like your fondest memories.
    Smiling knowingly, he presses the cube into her mouth, and deftly splits it with her. When he closes his eyes, all he can see is her, standing by him as they looked upon all of Hyaline that very first day in their hideout.

    And third, he thinks to her, a halo, for my angel. With the help of one of the twilight manipulators, Rhae had used his light beam emission to construct a temporary crown, which, enchanted, now floats softly atop Chryseis’ blue-gold head. Stepping back, Rhae appreciates his handiwork – but more than that, his eyes stray to the girl’s natural beauty, his breath taken by the very presence of her.

    Smiling again, Rhae steps into her chest, as she had into his. Feeling her pulse and confusing it willingly with his, he part his lips and speaks the words most prominently on his mind.

    “I love you, Chryseis.”





    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...

    Reply
    #3
    you were a vision in the morning
    when the light came through,
    i know i've only felt religion
    when i've lied with you
    and i'm still waking every morning
    but it's not with you
    .

    Never in a million years would she have thought that Rhaegor was planning a surprise for her. The fact that he had invited her to Island Resort was more than enough for her; that he wanted to take her somewhere, to let others see her and him together. Not that he had ever tried to hide her, but there was a part of her that was terrified he only liked her when they were alone – that maybe he was just as sweet to another girl when no one was looking. But like always, every trace of doubt is erased the moment their eyes meet, and they are completely eradicated when he pulls her close. The way that he calls her his girl makes her body flush warm, but she hides it by resting her cheek against his neck. He still smells a little bit of Nerine, but mainly of Tephra, and the way the scent fills her sends her heart fluttering again.

    But the sound of his voice inside her head makes her suddenly pull back, her eyes wide and a look of confusion clearly written on her face. ”How did you do that? Why are you in my head?” If it was possible, she would have been blushing, but instead she just lands a partially playful, partially scolding nip right on his neck. ”Stay out of there, unless you want to read something that will make you blush.” There is an almost coquettish tilt of her head, but she doesn’t pull away again when his lips grasp her neck – and she remembers exactly what he had said, just a few moments ago, about being in control and taking care of her, and she can feel that familiar heat rising in her again. For a moment, she presses back into him, scraping her teeth along the arch of his neck, and she doesn’t even care that he can suddenly read her thoughts – at least he’ll be able to know exactly what she wants.

    He steps back, though, and she does not hide the slightly exaggerated sigh of frustration, although she does realize that perhaps right here, in the middle of everything, isn’t the best place for their displays of affection. She follows alongside him, not yet quite realizing how similar this was to the day in Hyaline that she had shown him her hidden spot. The lights that float and glow have captured her attention, noting the way they illuminate the shimmering snow below, but occasionally stealing glances over at her golden love. She is not ignorant to the way he keeps brushing his wing against her, just enough to make her heart race and her skin tremble, and she can’t help but to wonder if he’s doing it on purpose – if he wants her on the brink of insanity.

    They come to a stop, for just a moment, and she looks at the solid face of rock, and the barrier of trees on the other side. The moment that Rhaegor looks at her, she knows. She doesn’t say anything, but the slow smile that spreads across her face, and the soft glow that reaches her eyes, says everything she can’t say. She follows him, then, just as he had done with her that day, a hum of anticipation beneath her skin. How did he manage to find a secret spot in a place that neither of them even lived? She had so many questions, but she follows him silently, until he breaks away from her, and she follows suit just as quickly.

    When she emerges from the narrow pathway, she immediately freezes, and stares, unblinking. First, she looks to the lights up above, enclosed in ice and suspended by some mysterious magic she can’t quite comprehend. And the paintings, of Hyaline, and Nerine, and Tephra – she can’t help but to look at Hyaline’s the longest, a strange clenching in her chest, and she lets her gaze linger back to Rhaegor. Hyaline was, essentially, why they were together. She likes to think that they would have found each other anyway, but being born in the same kingdom had certainly played a hand. All because she had to be annoying and decide to pester one of the triplets when she found him alone. She didn’t regret it.

    ”How did you…” Her voice trails off, still staring, before finally settling her gaze on his. She can’t even begin to explain the feeling that is welling up inside of her, and for a moment her dark brown eyes begin to glitter with what looks like tears, although they do not shed. She always went out of her way to try and keep everyone happy  – and usually failed miserably – and it had never occurred to her that someone would one day care enough to do the same for her. It was slowly beginning to dawn on her that Rhaegor loved her the same way that she loved him. That she didn’t have to be afraid, that she didn’t have to keep erecting walls and guards against him in fear that he was going to let her down. Whatever distrust she had been harboring against him because of what had happened in Hyaline, finally dissipated.

    She hadn’t even noticed the gifts, until he gestures to them, and then turns to her with one of his feathers. The sound of his voice inside her head makes her flinch again – this was going to take some getting used to – but she blushes inwardly when he entwines the feather into her raven-black mane. The ice cube, cold against her warm, still feverish mouth, tastes only like Rhaegor, and when she closes her eyes, he is all that she sees – their secret place in Hyaline, at the River searching for kelpies, and curled together in Nerine.

    Her eyes glance upwards at the golden halo as it floats towards her, coming to rest above her dark head, complementing her metallic gold blaze. When her eyes find his again, they are quiet, thoughtful, as she finally dares to whisper in disbelief, ”I can’t believe you did all of this...for me.” She steps forward, just as he does, curling into his embrace, until the feel of his heartbeat against her chest is indiscernible from her own. Her face presses into his mane, still trying to wrap her mind around the idea that he loves her – he actually loves her. He doesn’t just say it because she’s there, and everything that her father had been trying to warn her against was wrong – completely, and utterly wrong. Of course, she had never once dared to admit to her father she had doubts – he didn’t need to know that, and he didn’t need anything else to fuel his unnecessary hatred for Rhaegor. Her doubts were typical for any girl trying to navigate her way through her first love, but with every day that passed, Rhaegor was effectively eliminating all of them.

    ”I love you too, Rhaegor,” She breathes against his skin, still entangled in him, even as her lips trace the familiar shape and curve of his shoulder. He was hers, actually hers, and she wasn’t letting him go.


    chryseis
    Reply
    #4

    Rhaegor

    the playboy

    Truth be told, it's not the dirty thoughts that Rhaegor finds himself excited to listen in on; until she mentions something, it had not even once occurred to him. Although the thoughts filling Chryseis' head fill the man with more ardor that he certainly doesn't need considering the state she puts him in with her presence alone, he finds himself drawn to others; others which come later, as they stand enclosed by the structure he'd had built for them. With the ice twinkling like stars, Rhaegor finds himself listening to the girl's innermost thoughts, and replying in kind.

    He cares about me enough to want to make me happy...
    Yes, I do. With my every breath.
    He loves me the way that I love him.
    Yes, I do. There is no part of me that isn't yours.
    I don't have to be afraid, I can be vulnerable with him.
    It is my duty to make you feel safe. One which I shall never forsake.
    He hurt me in Hyaline... But now, things are different.
    I pray that you are beside me throughout all of the changes this universe has to throw at us.


    In the end, as they stand together chest to chest, her disbelief clearly spelled out for him and for the stars, he can only think to her the countless ways in which he loves her. When she whispers that she loves him, the words send shivers down the entirety of his spine; and in that moment, he forgets his disease. He forgets his worry, and his duty, and his strife. He forgets mothers and Will and Sviko, he forgets Magnus and Tephra, he forgets Dawn and he nearly forgets his own name: for in place of it, a single being stood, her light like that of a star: endless, shone outward upon him; brilliant; the being, of course, is her.

    Chryseis.

    Chryseis.

    It's the only word he knows how to say as he feels himself responding to her touch, mouth reaching for the exact place that he'd marked her months ago. Without tactile definition, the scar ought to be hard to find; yet the ease with which the prince places himself there is a testament to the many times they have been thus entangled, or at least to the countless times that he has imagined them so. A jagged exhale cuts across her skin as his eyes squeeze shut, her own name echoing in her mind yet again. Chryseis.

    Something tells him that that (the name of the goddess whom he worships with his every thought, breath, and heartbeat) will be the only word he knows how to say this night.

    Swiftly, and with the smoothness of one much more experienced than he, the pegasus slips from before the diety to along her side. As he moves, the soft flesh of his mouth traces the curvature of her spin, tasting every vertebrae as though to do so might render them closer than ever before. At the peak of her hip, the stallion pauses, shuddering as a thousand feelings flood through his body. Love, namely, followed by a possessive need so demanding that he knew in his heart that she must feel it too. The want, the desire, coupled with the absolute knowledge of their love for one another - it leaves him high, and without anything to lose.

    With a step forward to position himself, Rhaegor -- slips, on a patch of unseen ice, clicking his jaw comically and embarrassingly against Chryseis' rump. For the briefest of milliseconds, the golden boy feels as though his life might end; but in the next, the alien clicking of his laughter accompanies the liquid, lyrical sound of hers, and the noises create a sort of music in the ice enclosure that neither would hear again. What may have been dread and sheepishness for another pair in the moment after his slip, for Chrygor is but another reason why they love one another; before he even knows how he got there, Rhae finds himself with his mouth lovingly pressed against hers, the tail end of their laughter tinkling against the ice like drops of sleet.

    Breathless now more than ever, the stallion finds a lock of his love's mane and pulls on it gently, three times. I love you, he thinks with each tug. The telepathy cuts out soon thereafter, however, as he loses himself to the light-headedness and to the scent of her and to the electrical chemistry created between them. With each nod of his head, the tugs on her mane become fiercer, clearly outlining the exact ways in which he has imagined her beneath him; the ways he has imagined her whimpering, moaning, and screaming his name; the ways in which she would tremble for him, despite the virgin nature of their looming union.

    Stepping back, Rhae finds himself chest-flush against the seemly roundness of Chryseis' haunches, teeth grating impatiently against her skin. She tastes more like ice and fire than ever, an intoxicating mixture of all things opposite which leaves him reeling; and yet, as he spins mentally, he physically pauses. In a voice that communicates but his undying need for her, emotionally, spiritually, and physically, he asks:

    "I want you, Chryseis." His words here are punctuated by a firm and sudden press of his chest against her, a teaser for what will come should she consent; a guttural sound of pure need escapes him then, one that even she, his closest of companions, will have never heard before.

    God fucking dammit, I need you. And not in any of the innocent ways from before.

    From behind the mare, where she cannot see him, the playboy glimpses her halo. The little thing sits askew, as though it, too, is scantily clad and disheveled before him. Slowly, a dark, sinister grin grows along the young lover's typically angelic face; retreating but a finite distance, RhAegor imperceptibly lowers his head, angling its shapely mass until the hot air of his next words blow directly across her most sensitive inner parts; he barely manages to speak them, for how the warm, heady scent of her drives him to act. And yet, he waits; knowing that it will be more torture for her, than for him.

    "Tell me how bad you want me, too."

    Beg for me, Chryseis.





    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...

    [Image: rhae]
    Reply
    #5
    you were a vision in the morning
    when the light came through,
    i know i've only felt religion
    when i've lied with you
    and i'm still waking every morning
    but it's not with you
    .

    Even though all their little moments had been leading up to this, it still seemed like it had happened so suddenly. It was like as soon as they had broken through the wall they had built between each other, there was no going back. They went from not fully being able to comprehend their feelings for each other, to not being able to remember living any differently. The idea that he had ever been anything but hers is unimaginable; not that she had ever been shy towards him, but there was something about her that she had always kept bridled. It had been that fear of being let down, of being picked over, but that apprehension didn’t live inside of her anymore. Even without his sweet voice inside of her head, his actions were showing her everything she needed to know.

    Her dark lips continue to caress along his neck, her teeth occasionally dragging through the tangled strands of his mane. ”I would choose you over anyone, and anything.  Did you know that?” Her words are warm against his skin, but she pulls away just a little, so that her solemn brown eyes can find his, even though the sincerity of the way they were spoken would have been enough. She doesn’t want to talk about her father, or what had happened in Nerine. But she wanted him to know, to hear her say, that there was nothing anyone could ever do to change her mind about him, or to make her doubt him.

    When he retreats from her – just for a brief second, and their contact breaks – her skin instantly feels cold, until he is pressed alongside her once more, with his mouth dragging along her spine, and over her hip. She is used to him exploring her like this, even though it never went past that – no matter how badly she always wanted it to. She remains soft and languid beneath his touch, but she nearly starts when he slips. Tilting her head back towards him, she can’t help but to laugh, reaching for him as he comes back to the front of her. His lips against hers feels familiar by now, and willingly she leans into him.

    I love you too, is all she can think in response, her tongue suddenly unable to form words. The way that he pulls on her mane is not lost on her, and every ounce of lust and desire that she has been burying inside was slowly beginning to rise to the surface. Her skin flushes warm and hot, her eyes drifting close as she wonders, not for the first time, what it would feel like to be beneath him – to actually be completely his, in every way possible. When he presses against her, and his teeth scrape against the curve of her, it sends a tremble throughout her entire body, her mind becoming fogged by her insistent want.

    His touch travels lower, and by then, she is biting her lip against the sounds already building in her throat. ”Rhae,” His name is breathless in the way it leaves her tongue, the plea already beginning to creep into it; she won’t be able to handle it if he’s teasing her, again. But his words, hot and sultry against the parts of her that have been longing for his touch, are enough to nearly send her over the edge; they trigger an involuntary shudder that overtakes every part of her, and elicit something between a gasp and a moan. ”I want you,” and even though the words are quiet and tremulous, her body is giving the only consent he will need, as she presses back into him, the ache in her voice tangible as she says, ”And I need you.” He didn’t have to ask her to beg – she was already there, her breathing already quickening in near desperation at having him so close to fulfilling what she has been wanting, but was once again dragging out. ”Stop torturing me, please.” Patience has never been her strong suit, especially not when what she wanted – needed – was right there.


    chryseis


    @[Rhaegor]
    Reply
    #6

    Rhaegor

    the playboy

    In truth, the boy would have been sufficiently dazed and wanting of her even if he couldn't reach into the depths of her mind and pluck out the exact, explicit details of that which she imagined them doing together. And yet he can, and it drives him all the more to his physical need - yet even more than that, it drives him to loving her. By the way she thinks of him, he knows that she has abandoned all the doubts he'd previously implanted there, in the deep recesses of her mind; though he cannot guarantee that he will be perfect to her, he can promise to try.

    They love each other, after all; that will be enough.

    (He thinks that, now.)

    In utter abandonment of logic and good sense, the stallion loses himself to the angel's voice. She whispers her name, that single syllable which brings him fully to attention. Already the sound of her voice is pleading, the blue mare's obedience and neediness overtly clear from his vantage point, ears pressed thickly into the sound of her voice. I want you, she moans, flinching away from the hot air he expels onto her only to lean back for more. Rhae grins, obliging her without hesitation.

    And I need you.

    Well, he couldn't argue with that, either, now could he?

    Without warning, Rhaegor breaches the small gap he had left between his lips and hers. He is immediately reminded of what heaven might feel like (warm, soft, and sweet) as he presses himself to her. In these initial moments, all intentions of making her his disappear, and he loses himself to the present moment of simply being hers himself. As his tongue sweeps across the delicate folds which tumble wetly into and out of his mouth, he listens euphorically to the sounds she makes, forgetting his own need as he fulfills hers - after all, that is all it has ever been about, for him. Making sure her needs were met first, and his, second. His life would be a testament to that, he would live that truth out with his every action.

    Stop torturing me, please!

    The loud, whimper-like words cascade from her lips to his and cause him to break his connection from her. He blinks in quiet confusion at the sight of her before him, knock-kneed and trembling all over; he'd been so lost in his exploration of her that he'd not even realized that she'd peaked. The euphoria of it all slams into him with the strength of a mountain, and indeed, that is the density to which he returns as his angel grinds her hips into his chest, clearly not satiated despite his lucky first attempt at pleasuring her.

    Licking his lips (and still tasting the sweetness of her ecstasy there), Rhae gives into his impulses; and, guided by instinct and the shape of Chryseis' body, he rises up and slips smoothly atop her back. With the sounds of her climax echoing through his mind, all previous thoughts of making her beg and of making her his are cast aside. As his mouth brushes and finds the sensitive tissues of her ear, all he can think of is his love for her: his undying love.

    Flustered and dazed and utterly vulnerable to her, Rhaegor does not speak a word; instead, he presses a kiss to the damp curve of her jaw. Stepping closer, the head of his shaft finds the curves he'd left wet and waiting.

    Shuddering, he steps closer again - and in one smooth, gentle motion, plunges the full length of himself into her. The ecstasy of it (of being this close to the woman he has loved since before he became a yearling, of being one with the woman he sees himself standing next to as equals until the end of time, of being so completely himself as their union is solidified) leaves him gasping and clutching tightly to her withers. He stays like that for a long moment, inserted and motionless, his eyes closed and head pressed desperately into her neck as he drinks in the feeling. Words he cannot identify slip from his lips, or perhaps from his mind - but he knows that they have to do with loving her, and he knows that he will only speak those words more and more as the years go by.

    At long last, the more carnal parts of himself overtake the control center of his mind. Breathing raggedly and utterly unaware of everything around them - the beautiful enclosure, the ice, the twilight - Rhaegor retreats completely, pausing as the tip of his head catches just on the final ledge of her. Then, without warning, he thrusts - this time with much less gentleness, and much more need.

    "God, Chryseis," he moans, his teeth unknowingly finding the thick base of her mane and withers as he repeats the motion again, teeth grasping tighter at the sounds emitted by his lover. "Fuck me." There will surely be more marks, he thinks darkly as he rams into her again, readjusting his grip on her withers just to accomplish that goal. With each stroke, the stallion moves quicker - and before long, he is again lost to the ethereal nature of her insides, a kind of bliss he had never previously imagined overtaking any chance of coherent thought.





    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...

    [Image: rhae]
    Reply
    #7
    you were a vision in the morning
    when the light came through,
    i know i've only felt religion
    when i've lied with you
    and i'm still waking every morning
    but it's not with you
    .

    She has imagined him touching her more times than she would ever admit, and even in her most sensual dreams, it never compared to this. Dreaming of him, and actually having him, were two so very different things, but only because physically having him was so much better. The feel of his tongue against her is enough to send her spiraling into a quivering mess of gasps and breathless moans, until her mind is clouded and there are stars behind her eyes. Beneath her blue-roan coat her muscles ripple and tremble, with such an intensity into her very core that she can feel her legs nearly begin to give way in the wake of her full release. She can’t even fully comprehend what just happened, but all she knows is it has left her breathless, and somehow both spent and yet simultaneously wanting more.

    With her breath still catching in her throat, a shiver once again races the length of her spine when he finds his place on top of her. She can feel her heart beginning to race, with nerves and anticipation as she realizes what is about to happen; finally. Even though she has always been his, every single part of her heart and her soul, she wanted her body to be his, too. When his touch trails along her neck, she nearly melts, and when her gold-blazed head tilts to receive his kiss she can do nothing but think, I love you.

    There is a soft, involuntary gasp when he enters, and for a moment she grows tense; adjusting to the feeling of him inside of her, but never flinching away. But he doesn’t move, and slowly, she relaxes, even as his teeth find leverage in her skin, even when she feels his breath as it fans across her neck. Something about his ragged breathing sends her pulse racing again, and if her want had ever began to wane after already climaxing, it is reignited, into a stronger, hotter flame. ”Rhae?” His name is nearly a whisper, but the single syllable is heavy, aching, relishing the feeling of the warmth of his body on top of hers and his thoughts still storming into her mind. The longer he waits, the hotter her skin begins to flush, and again she finds herself pressing back into him.

    But then, he moves, a swift motion that again makes her gasp, a shudder traveling through her at the strange but pleasant feeling of him inside of her. The sound of her name uttered as a moan from his mouth makes her heart flutter, the feelings of want, and love, and lust becoming so tangled that she can no longer tell them apart – and even though she is young and naive, she cannot help but to think that this is exactly the way it is supposed to be. The way that their bodies fit together so perfectly, as if they had already done this before, and not just a thousand times in their dreams. If there was any discomfort at her body adjusting to movement inside of her, it is overshadowed by the passion that courses in currents through her veins, and all she can think about is pleasing him. Her hips rock back to meet his movements willingly, and she is no longer in control of the sounds that fall from her lips – his name leaving her tongue breathy and hoarse, her moans mingling with his own.

    Everything around her has slowly faded away, and as far as she is concerned, her and Rhaegor are the only two living souls left in the world.


    chryseis


    @[Rhaegor]
    Reply
    #8

    Rhaegor

    the playboy

    I love you.

    Her thought is the last he hears before he enters her; and perhaps, if she focuses closely, she will hear his, not in his thoughts but in his every breath and twitch of muscle as they form a single entity. The woman speaks his name like a prayer to the gods (or perhaps a prayer to him), the single syllable dripping with thick honey, oozing need in a way the stallion had never realized another could. The word lover suddenly means so much more to him in that moment, its implication burning itself into his skull as the minx beneath him presses back, back, back, demanding more of him.

    Needy girl, he thinks to her, relishing in the way her hips swivelled against his as if she could tempt him into motion - and god, she could. In that moment, Rhaegor also comes to understand the power of a woman's thighs.

    His teeth find her neck, and he obeys her wordless command, a servant to her ever whim.

    As if their dreams have prepared them for this moment, their love making becomes fluid, though far from gentle; their hips move in a rhythm so satisfying that even Rhaegor begins making soft, ecstatic noises into the tangle of Chryseis' mane. He will be glad when the haze and thrill of lust and orgasm wear off that he built them an enclosure such as this; while his noises may be soft, the sum of their total noise-making certain is not. And besides, he didn't need all of the Resort hearing his name moaned - not even if it made them supremely jealous, not even if he can't admit that he would love seeing their abhorred-but-secretly-aroused faces thrown away in mock-disgust.

    He isn't sure when the sensation begins, but he knows when it happens.

    Orgasm - a concept which revolutionized all concepts. It began as a clench in his gut and exploded into waves of bliss, waves which are preceded by the most powerful of his thrusts into the deep, warm folds of Chryseis. Her name audibly leaves his lips as his legs shudder, barely maintaining their grip around her withers; he wonders, madly, whether he tastes blood because he has broken her skin, or simply due to the overwhelming sensation of the orgasm itself. In any case, he forgets the thought instantly, losing himself to the release that Chryseis' loins offer, a sanctuary for his sexuality.

    His ejaculation mixes with her arousal, lubricating her in a way that leaves Rhaegor all to satisfied.

    Mine.

    For a while, he rests like that, breathing gradually slowing as he feels himself growing soft inside of her. When at last he must move, he does so carefully, making a point not to place his weight too heavily on his lover as he crawls down from atop her heavenly topline. Sweaty and seeing that she is, too, Rhae walks to place himself beside the mare, eyelids drooping as his head swings to clear her eyes of dampened forelock.

    I love you.

    Pulling his angel close, the stallion wonders if he could ever love someone more; and, as he listens to her breathing, he gently falls to sleep.





    ...my name on your tongue and your tongue on my...



    @[Chryseis]
    [Image: rhae]
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