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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]  ||Hell in a Hand Basket|| {Molotov}
    #9

    Arithmetic wasn’t what he’d expected from the husky mare and, quite honestly, nothing she did seemed normal to him. She wanted to play a game that he had already grown bored of. As joined him on the bank her watched her with ears pricked forward. As her lips traced along the track of his spine it became abundantly clear to him that she was willing to try anything to convince him to stay. His irritation grew as her attempts led her to the nape of his neck only to end just as abruptly as she had started. As she pulled away deeper onto the path he remained glued to his spot.
     
    He snorted defiantly and tossed his tail with a irate bob of his white face. ”I think you are mistaken, madam,” he said condescendingly. His ears pinned back as he moved threateningly towards her. He knew he didn’t have to finish his sentence. The telepath would know his thoughts and his degrading opinion of her.
     
     
    Any mare that flaunted herself so promiscuously was not worth taking. There was no sense of accomplishment in cavorting with a slut who happily threw herself at the first stallion she happened upon. Innocence was a treasure – and one he enjoyed far too much to waste his precious energy on her. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t enjoy the occasional consensual romp. In fact, her preferred that. There was pleasure in courting a shy mare, in convincing her to allow his advances. It was the slow art of romancing that he enjoyed over a mare such as the one who had found him trapped in the menagerie of partially charred trees.
     
    It seemed to him that she had some sort of false perception of his intentions in Nerine. If she honestly thought that he presumed to romance the bitch queen herself – he laughed despite himself. He was many things but stupid was not one of them. No, he was simply curious and the coast was notably warmer than the inland and with winter just on the horizon…
     
    He shook himself from his thoughts having temporarily forgotten that the mare, whose name still remained a mystery despite her advances, was privy to them. There was no need for him to explain himself. Let her believe what she wanted to about him. He would happily play the part of ‘man whore’, but that was the only satisfaction she would get from him.  

    Arithmetic
    I Don't Make Love
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    Messages In This Thread
    RE: ||Hell in a Hand Basket|| {open} - by Molotov - 02-24-2018, 09:56 PM
    RE: ||Hell in a Hand Basket|| {Molotov} - by Arithmetic - 03-07-2018, 09:21 AM



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