The blood in his tongue is not so salty as the sea but the kelpie savors it no less because of that. Just a drop or two had seeped through the serrated marks of his teeth, and though Karat jumps in surprise she does not jump away. This emboldens the piebald creature, who presses his soft mouth to the same place he has just marked her. He is more gentle now, a gentle kiss to wipe away the last of the blood, and a red smear on his pale lips when he pulls away to laugh.
Ivar is terrible with secrets.
The laughter is a rumble in his deep chest, and it matches the open amusement on his scaled face.
"I don't like to share," he tells her, as though this was not obvious in the way he has expressed his desire for the land of Ischia and the mark he's made on this silvery mare that would be its queen. "I would let you govern the land, but it is still my land. My island. Mine."
As Ivar says this his gentle touch returns to her, and he toys with the lavender strands of her mane. Karat's willingness to accept his offer - even with her silly caveat - was encouraging to the ever-hungry kelpie, and he presses the softest of commands of desire into her skin with each touch. Nothing burning - this is not the season, after all - but enough that he might stir the embers of it later, when they have fewer words between them.
"I'm Ivar," He adds when she pulls away. The kelpie's golden eyes follow her to the edge of the jungle, but his own long legs remain in the tepid lagoon. Things between them are not entirely settled, but at least she knows where he stands. She knows what he wants, and what he might be willing to give her for a price.
Ivar hopes to see her again soon, and he watches with hungry eyes as her silvered hips disappear into the greenery.
@[Karat]
Ivar is terrible with secrets.
The laughter is a rumble in his deep chest, and it matches the open amusement on his scaled face.
"I don't like to share," he tells her, as though this was not obvious in the way he has expressed his desire for the land of Ischia and the mark he's made on this silvery mare that would be its queen. "I would let you govern the land, but it is still my land. My island. Mine."
As Ivar says this his gentle touch returns to her, and he toys with the lavender strands of her mane. Karat's willingness to accept his offer - even with her silly caveat - was encouraging to the ever-hungry kelpie, and he presses the softest of commands of desire into her skin with each touch. Nothing burning - this is not the season, after all - but enough that he might stir the embers of it later, when they have fewer words between them.
"I'm Ivar," He adds when she pulls away. The kelpie's golden eyes follow her to the edge of the jungle, but his own long legs remain in the tepid lagoon. Things between them are not entirely settled, but at least she knows where he stands. She knows what he wants, and what he might be willing to give her for a price.
Ivar hopes to see her again soon, and he watches with hungry eyes as her silvered hips disappear into the greenery.
@[Karat]