tangerine
face to the sun
Warrick lifts his head from her back and nestles his crown below her jaw. The fluttering of his lashes against the softness of her neck unsteadys her already quaking heart. Her emotions have swung in a wide arch, now circling back to the joy and nervousness she had felt when the wind had first carried his scent to her in the peaks of Hyaline earlier that day. Had it really only been a day? It seemed so long ago. She has felt so much in a short amount of time and she leans against his steady presence for support physically and emotionally.
Tang is ashamed that she had so little faith in him, she was wrong to ever doubt that Warrick would treat her in a way different than he always had. She had let her imagination get the better of her, he had always been steady and pure and she should have known that. The words between them have been heavy… yet necessary. But now they are finished and he moves them forward, and she is glad for the change.
All is well. Everything is better.
“We have each other now, in this moment – let’s not think of the future anymore…” The timber of his voice reminds her of their night spent in the heart of the volcano. It reminds her of the winter heat, the heavy tropical air full of spice and smoke. She realizes this has been waiting below the surface longer than she realized.
“Yes.” She murmurs, to his statement or his touch… she can’t be sure.
And then he is moving, tracing her topline with his muzzle, his mouth. His kisses fall down the mountain of her withers and traverse her back, gold and rolling like the plains of her homeland. As his touch electrifies her spine she wonders if she could be his.
He has more of her than she ever intended to give him, to give anyone. Quietly, the stargazer has taken one small piece after another from her heart, and she finds that it is not quite so vast as it was a year ago. But he is kind, and he is good, and the thought of him having such power over her does not scare her the way it had in the winter. She trusts him, and her trust was harder to gain than her love.
But the thought is not fully formed or recognizable, it only the start of this erosion, the unrealized beginning of something eternal. Their stories are forever intertwined, he is dusk and she is dawn – his darkness is quiet yet deep and her brightness is new and untainted.
His touch is demanding, and her thoughts now wander only with his kisses. Her hips of cream and honey, press into his side as he journeys farther.
Something inside of her blossoms, and she is his - fully and unapologetically.
In this moment.