06-24-2018, 09:42 PM
 I V A R promising everything i do not mean |
The kelpie prefers to watch their blood seep into the sea, crimson eddies that drift into the dark currents without a trace. The water wipes away the evidence, fills their empty veins with the same briny water that slips between their parted lips. The sea beckons, cool against his pale legs, but Ivar feels no need to lure her deeper. It is not often that his needs clash with those of his instinct, but as she falls still beside him it is far less difficult to change his mind than he’d expected. Perhaps it is because the outcome will be the same, with both kelpie and stallion satisfied in the end. She moans as his teeth pierce her flesh, and despite himself he bites down harder than he’d intended. She does not react like she should, and while this frustrates the kelpie it is exhilarating for the stallion, who nips harder at her jaw. The bitter copper tang of her blood is not dilute by the salt water, and as he presses fervid touches to the curve of her crest he spreads a crimson smear as he goes. Her tug at his mane brings a grin and a brightness to his dark eyes. When she asks how he can know her so well despite the freshness of their acquaintance, Ivar feels no need to spare her feelings. With the others he might have; monogamy seems engrained into the hearts of most of his conquests. “You queens are all the same,” he replies, stepping forward to trail a surprisingly gentle touch along the curve of her spine. She said she knew his reputation and Ivar does’nt hesitate to reminds her of it. “You wield so much control, have so many choices, decisions.” Boring things, Ivar knows, but they seem to enjoy them, savor the responsibility while struggling beneath the weight of it. “What you want though, what you need at the end of the day…”His mouth glides lower as his shoulder presses against the curve of her rump, and his breath ghosts across the soft skin of her thigh. “Is someone else to be in charge.” His teeth pick at the dark curve of her inner thigh, pinpricks between kisses and deep slow breaths. (wait.) And he does, though it would be easier to guide her beneath him and take what they both know she’ll give. Instead Ivar lavishes attention scant inches from where she truly wants it, toying with her as amusement and anticipation dances behind his dark eyes. Another step brings him behind her, but he only stretches out his long neck, drawing his pointed canines down the curve of her spine with almost enough pressure to pierce the skin. Ahead of him, her unmarked withers glow temptingly in the scant moonlight, and he feels his own need rising to a crescendo. Ivar means to enjoy every drawn out moment with this wanton mahogany queen, so as he sinks his teeth into the thick muscle of her left thigh, it is with another command that is not so different from his own inner monologue (need. want. mine.) Beg. |
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |
@[Wishbone]
:|