i'll use you as a warning sign - kylin

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take ‘You’re doubting my words?’ she asks, and Ivar answers only with a noncommittal hum and a playful tug at the salt-encrusted strands of her mane. He knows that she means those words, knows that to her they are true. He might feel the same, but feelings are less important physical proof. Still, he does hold her now, and disturbing that satisfaction with semantics would be a waste of time. Ivar would rather live in the moment. The caveat that she makes is unexpected, but it startles a laugh from the piebald stallion. “No,” he disagrees, resting his muzzle for a moment on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure you won’t forget.” Even if he leaves again. He doesn’t plan to, of course, and can’t fathom a reason why he might. There is far better hunting here than in the open ocean after all, and Ivar had grown tired of the monotony. He knew the hiding places of the fish too well, and while he had never wearied of Isobell, he finds now that the way Kylin’s breath catches in her throat provides an entirely new sort of thrill. She would break so easily, he knows. She is so fragile, so soft. She is the kind that would smile as she slipped beneath the water, smile as the light faded from her lovely hazel eyes. If only he hadn’t made that promise. Without hypnosis, they all resists, and Ivar does not enjoy the struggle. There is no fun in it; it does not sate the hunger. Kylin leans against him, warm even in the tepid water, and the tobiano stallion resumes his mindless affection. His pale lips trace the lines of her shoulder and chest, and continue even after she has asked a question of him. “Is it so hard to imagine I came back for you?” asks the kelpie. The rising tide sends wave across his dark back and he shivers, glancing back up at the beach. It remains empty, filled only with shadows from the waving palms. He had phrased his answer carefully, interspersing the words with the gentle caresses that he trails down her spine. The water is growing higher, and the need to (take her) wars with the need to keep her protected. They have played in the water countless times before, but Ivar remembers the delightful way that she had frozen at the threat of his teeth. The kelpie would very much like to feel that again, perhaps even find out how still she could be while distracted in other ways. “We need to get out of the water,” Ivar tells her mildly, even as the kelpie runs his muzzle around the curve of her croup and nips teasingly at the curve of her thigh. He pulls away to move around her, and in the darkness misses a step on the sandy floor beneath them. Ivar catches himself against Kylin, his scaled chest pressing firmly against her hindquarters. (now. now. she wants it. the water is deep. mine. leave no trace. take her) Ivar drowns a groan in the water and bumps her forward, as though he has been teasing and only means to drive her back to the beach. “Go on,” he says with a laugh and a nip to her haunches that he must fight to not use to pull her back to him. “Before I do something I regret.” His tone is as light and playful as his expression, but there is no denying the hunger in his eyes. It is more than lust - though that is there too - but he has kept Kylin alive this long, and is not ready to ruin that for a few moments of pleasure. The kelpie knows she would look lovely, lying still on the ocean floor with an eternally satisfied smile, but Ivar would prefer her alive and on the shoreline. making those promises that i could not keep in my dark times, baby this is all i could be