12-27-2017, 04:04 PM
He does not say a word.
Not even the heaviness of her confession is enough to stir sentiment from his vocal cords. He is silent, but unwavering, unafraid of the revelation falling away from her parted lips. The air is still and rife with emotion, but there is no amazement nor disbelief hidden in the darkness of his gaze, boring into her own. He already knew. Her carefully spoken words are merely a verbal confirmation of what he had known and felt from her for what felt like an eternity. Since the first moment her breath had been stolen by the fervent heat of his kiss, he felt her become bound to him, tied to the fragmented and broken remnants of his feebly beating heart.
His dreadlocked mane drapes over the burning, searing heat of his gaze, as the blistering inferno crackling inside of him causes his flesh to burn – desire stirring in his loin as his teeth press flush against her skin, dampened by the soft splay of mist from the raucous sea, crashing against the uneven overhang of volcanic rock and sediment. His whiskered lips taste the salty brine of the ocean, the warmth of the unforgiving sun, the goldenrod and amaranth that clutches tightly to the tousled tresses that lay at the root of her neck.
He cannot feel his age, not when he is pressed so close to her, and not when she is pressing into him – supple and soft, yearning for him to lay claim to the length of her spine with his waiting kiss. Longing for him to take her, as he had so long ago – he does not mistake her need; it envelopes him and brings him nearer to her, as an array of feather light kisses and hardened nips are rained across the shadow of her shoulder and up along the tender curve of her throat. Her confession is one of love - unconditional, and he cannot bring himself to say it in return.
It is not because he does not feel it – quite the contrary. His heart is heavy and thumping with ferocity against his chest at the softly uttered admission, but words meant so little when he could show her the depth of his ardor for her. His lips part from her skin, hovering just so as his hitched breath covers her shoulder, while his teeth gently part and press into the supple flesh of her spine, trailing down to her croup. The broad plane of his cheek caresses the roundness of her backside, where his lips find the feminine curve of her buttocks.
A low and guttural groan is pressed against the bend of her rump as her long and tousled tail brings him closer with the heady scent of her desire, and he is only barely able to resist the temptation of taking her with wild abandon. Instead, his shoulder collides with her thigh, pressing purposely past her with the implication of his positioning (he could take her, he could rise and clutch her closer and bring her to completion over and over, but not yet), while his lips move along her spine and across the soft curve of her barrel, and he is beside her once more.
Beneath the blistering heat of his caress is gentle affection. Between each urging bite, nip and kiss, he is tender with her, nuzzling the crook of her neck and the ridge of her shoulder. He caresses her gently, before sinking his teeth into her feminine curves, laying claim to the darkness of her skin over and over. He does not leave her vulnerable, though, and eventually his touch brushes along her jaw and maw once more, with a soft kiss pressed where the saltiness of a fallen tear has darkened the gray overlay of her pelt.
”I know,” he says finally, his voice rough and gravelly, murmured to her and only to her.
I love you too, he doesn’t say.
He is all too aware she can feel it.