He is searching her, exploring her physically instead of mentally, longing to discover more of her that he already did not know. He knew her heart, her soul, and her mind – yet, her body was unfamiliar to him, despite it being as much a piece of her as the parts he already knew so well. He didn’t want her to ever leave him, though he knew it couldn’t be helped, and he instinctually pulls her closer, the blue of his lips tracing the delicate slope of her back and then to her hips, kissing the gold and white patterns fervently. He needs her now and he cannot think of the future, for the future is what saddens him and deepens his wounds, the thought of her being lost on the wind despite her promises he knows she will never break purposely. He gives into this moment of pure fleshly desire, a passion that, for him, intertwines with his very being. He could not think too much, for he knew it would end the way the night in the volcano had – he did not want that.
He wants her.
He wants her fully, all of her, everything else stripped away.
She responds to his touch, encouraging him with the gentle way her body gives into him as he brings himself to her. His breath feels hot against the warmth of her skin, the rapid pulse in his veins burning and boiling with longing. He murmurs her name, a whisper as it leaves his indigo lips, tracing the letters onto her skin. He is gentle, so gentle, as he moves around her, unable to allow his touch to leave her even for a second.
He was no longer the darkened stallion, shrouded by pain and aching memories. In this moment he is illuminated and reborn by the light that shines warmly beneath him, his lips intertwined in the darkness of her mane.
No words were spoken, for none were needed. The dance they share – the sun and the moon – did not need words to orchestrate itself. As naturally as the sun rises and sets, as naturally as the moon crosses over the sky, they would have found each other. This moment was inevitable; unavoidable. The shadow in him calls out to the light in her, a balance that the world knows it needs.
He wants her.
He wants her fully, all of her, everything else stripped away.
She responds to his touch, encouraging him with the gentle way her body gives into him as he brings himself to her. His breath feels hot against the warmth of her skin, the rapid pulse in his veins burning and boiling with longing. He murmurs her name, a whisper as it leaves his indigo lips, tracing the letters onto her skin. He is gentle, so gentle, as he moves around her, unable to allow his touch to leave her even for a second.
He was no longer the darkened stallion, shrouded by pain and aching memories. In this moment he is illuminated and reborn by the light that shines warmly beneath him, his lips intertwined in the darkness of her mane.
No words were spoken, for none were needed. The dance they share – the sun and the moon – did not need words to orchestrate itself. As naturally as the sun rises and sets, as naturally as the moon crosses over the sky, they would have found each other. This moment was inevitable; unavoidable. The shadow in him calls out to the light in her, a balance that the world knows it needs.
like the sun,
swallowed up by the earth
warrick
@[Tangerine]