11-02-2017, 02:12 PM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
It’s dark in his den, darker than she thought it could possibly be as her head pokes through only to be met by the bump of his plush wolf’s head against her own. Wolf and horse, she ought to fear him but finds there is no fear in her because it is him. He scoffs and she snorts in response, masking the giggle that rises up in her throat as he pushes against her with more force and insistence. Oh he wants out now does he? Femur moves back until her head and shoulders have come loose of the big leaves and clinging vines. He comes not a moment after her, quick to burst out of his den and disappear into the tropical vegetation so that she cannot see him no matter how hard she tries to look through the dense green gloom. She never doubted that he’d leave her be for very long; never imagined he could leave her for a great length of time that would cause heartache and hurt. No, not as he comes slinking back in his familiar blue horse shape and the smile matches the look on her face - one of pure satisfaction. He pins her there with his stare; a stare that would make others squirm but she holds fast to her stillness and stares back at him, feeling that hunger build between them, reaching out to her across the air. The air is electric and charged as he asks if he will ever know her name. Femur can only smile at that, fanged and enamoured of the way he looks so thoroughly possessed with her, by her, about her.
It is how she feels about him but she can hardly think about that now.
They are alone, quite alone and she is content with that knowledge and how it rests inside her like a stone. No one to hear the noise they’ll make; it’d just be lost in the cries and calls of the animals that inhabit this corner of the world they’ve allowed him into, and now by proxy, her. Will he make her scream? The mere thought of it makes her heart quicken and leap; he could, she knows he could! But she thinks it would be screams of passion, not horror that fly from her lips amidst breath and spit. He looks like a flame, blue and long just standing there, hovering… oh but he talks and pulls a laugh from her that shakes loose from her belly. “But you could!” she assures him in the same breath, at once breathless from the laughter and the sound of him caressing the insides of her ears.
Oh stars! Bones! Gods!
He is on her in a heartbeat but her heart has stopped. That might be too dramatic, even for her, but it feels like she is trapped in the center of a whirlwind of blue flesh and his intoxicating smell. She can feel his mouth and skin on her, gliding towards the back of her but she is not concerned with what can happen next - she ends only where he begins, and they are a continuation of one another, his skin or hers, they’re there together. Her breath comes shuddering out of her at least when his wicked mouth moves over her rump and down her back leg, giving just the gentlest but forceful of tugs that makes her obey him, splaying herself further to him.
“My mate,” he’d said and she has no objections to that. She is his, forever and more, as much as he is hers. The simple tantalizing admission has stunned her and her brain short circuits, sparking each time he touches her. She likes him this way, bold and impassioned to the point that she is driven to need him more than grass or water. He has become like air to her, necessary for the continuation of her being and at last, she cleaves to him and plants her own fanged mouth against his neck, feeling her own hunger mount within. “Mine, mate.” she echoes, bursts of words mixed with breath as her mouth climbs to his ear and a fang slides against the curve of it with such wicked beautiful intent.
He twines himself about her, more sinuous than a wolf or a horse has the right to be, and she is struck dumb by the desire that escalates in her. “Femur.” she murmurs, because he has asked her not once, but more than that, and she has not given him this one thing that he had asked for. It was not the asking that undid her, but the blue leg that brushes against her golden fetlock and the weight of him against her that makes her give him whatever he wants. He could ask her to fetch the moon and Femur would find a way to climb a ladder of bones into the night sky and haul it down in her teeth for him, just to light his dark dark den.
How can I say no?
That is the last thought he leaves her with as her face buries itself in his shimmering blue neck and his scent overcomes her. Femur
@[Longclaw] he makes her all love-dumb! haha