"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The sunlight glitters off the water around them, casting dozens of refractions that glitter and dance across their skin. The water darkens Kylin's lavender coat and brightens the white of her markings, and Ivar reaches out to touch her as she passes him by. His white lips press against the rise of her withers, where her skin is warmed by the midday sun and flavored with the salt water that splashes up around them. Ivar does not bite down, but he does grin devilishly at her offended gaze and her buck, clearly unperturbed by her reaction to his earlier nip.
He snaps playfully at her tail when she flicks it at his shoulder, catching a few of the lavender strands between his teeth but letting them slide away. Ivar could have asked, but he has never been the type of creature to request permission. He would rather see how far he could press Kylin, how far he can take her from the sweet and quiet creature he knows so well. She might feel a great many things while they are out in the water, but none of them will be sadness.
Her hazel eyes narrow, but Ivar knows her well enough to read the quirk in her lip that suggests she is only moments away from a smile. When she replies, it is not with a real answer, yet Ivar finds that he doesn't really mind. Instead, he watches the water climb higher along her sides as she wades deeper into the sea. The waves close over her back, and Ivar feels his breath catch in his throat as the fins at her sides flare out in the current.
(mine.)
A moment ago, the kelpie had half a mind to drown her just to see what would happen, but when their eyes meet with her wordless challenge, those thoughts disappear.
(catch her. take her. mine.)
The need that swells within him is unexpected, but he does not hesitate. For all his conquests, this is something new, and it takes only a few flicks of his dark tail to close the space she’s put between them. The buoyancy of the water makes it all too easy to float above her, to wrap his forelegs around her shoulders. She needs to stay above the water, he knows in some subconscious part of his mind, but she is so warm beneath him, even in the tropical sea.
“This is what I had in mind,” He tells Kylin between kisses to the side of her neck. They are more tooth than lip, growing more insistent as his desire rises unmistakably behind her. She’d give herself to him (Ivar knows a willing woman when he sees one), but the kelpie wants more than sex. The heat of her blood simmers just beneath the surface of her fragile neck, and the need to see it merge with the seawater all but clouds his vision.
He wants to fuck her and kill her and make her his mate all at once, to drive into her and tear her apart and tend to her wounds.
Without that damn promise he could have them all so easily, could shield her from the pain and the fear and give her only the pleasure and the feel of Ivar and the sea, could take away the memory of it all if she fought him or regretted it. There is a millisecond of indecision, and then in a single motion he drives himself into her and bites down - hard but not deadly - into the side of her flawless neck. Bloody and shallow, a mark that is unmistakable to the kelpie as an indicator of possession and protection. If he cannot hypnotize her, he will take what he wants as gently as possible.
(mine. mine. mate.)
Better to ask forgiveness than permission.
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
What should have been her advantage, her head start, is soon turned around in something that actually works against her. Though her fins allow her to swim faster than average – sometimes even allowing her body to skip across the water a few times a she folds her legs like she’s jumping – they are no match for the kelpie. Much like she had expected.
However, what Kylin had not been expecting, is to have the ex-kelpie-king on top of her. While swimming, her hindquarters are lower positioned than her withers, as she’s trampling to keep her head above the water. Because unlike Ivar, Kylin cannot breath underwater. But like that, she apparently has given him enough room to position himself between her and the surface. It rather surprises her, showing in the way how her body freezes underneath his and she gasps for air. “I-Ivar?” she murmurs, more confused, and surprised, than anything else.
Her lavender head tilts ever so slightly, her fins and legs working to keep pushing her up to the surface, nostrils trembling as she breaths in much precious air. An hazel eyes try to find his, only to fall half closed as his teeth work their way down her skin. “Oh,” she practically moans – surprized – as she shudders, legs and fins about to fall still, only remembering that the bottom of the sea is far underneath her hooves when her head threatens to go under. The muscles of her stomach tense in anticipation, while at the same time it feels as if a swarm of butterflies are about to break free.
Underneath him, Kylin’s back arches and her pale lavender lips part in a silent half-scream half-moan as he at once bites down on her skin and penetrates her. Like always, it is she freezes under his touch. Except for the way her body seems to revel in Ivar’s attention, and through the pull of the water her body is pushed against his. She floats, no longer able to even think – let alone attempt – of keeping her head above the sea’s surface, completely depended on Ivar’s strong tail to keep her from drowning.
She does, of course, trust him to do exactly that. Her body melts into his, surrendering all control as pleasure and pain mix in a way Kylin had not thought possible. All vocalized in the soft pants that escape from her pale lips.
The copper taste of her blood mixes with the bitterness of the salt water, and Ivar groans. Kylin tastes as sweet as he had expected, and she arches under him, as meek and willing as he’d known she would be. As she always does, she falls still beneath his touch, and the water creeps quickly up her neck. Her lavender mane is drifts freely in the current and brushes against his neck, and for a moment Ivar considers pulling her down with him.
She’d look beautiful beneath the water – breathtaking.
Her pretty hazel eyes would open wide, and a cascade of bubbles would pour out of her pretty lips, drifting toward the surface. She’d breathe in the water as he did, and she’d settle on the ocean floor in a cloud of rosy pink water. The stallion wants it – he knows how enjoyable it will be. Instead he grips her hips with his hind claws, matching his deep thrusts with flicks of his dark tail, keeping her head above the water despite the temptation. Her quiet panting is his guide, though he shifts now and again, withdrawing only to sink deeper in an effort to draw out her pleasure as he peppers his neck with bites and kisses.
Ivar knows the limits of the equine body, has seen how much blood can be lost before there is true danger. He tests that limit, his teeth stained red as he mauls the soft skin of her neck and shoulder. Perhaps she’ll feel lightheaded, disembodied. That is his intention anyway, and he spills himself inside her only when he feels certain she too has reached her peak.
The current has carried the floating pair back toward the island, and Ivar slides from her back to find that his hooves easily reach the sand below. He touches the wounds on her neck delicately, and primal satisfaction glints in his molten eyes.
(marked. mine.)
“You should rest,” he tells her, cognizant of how weak those who are not built for the sea are after his attentions. Lepis’ conception had worn Heda out for days, and Isobell was much the same. His hind legs lengthen as they wade into shallower water, and Ivar runs an affectionate muzzle across the curve of her rump. The desire rises again and he cannot help but nip gently at the base of her tail. Even with the constant summer of Ischia, the kelpie recognizes the need, enough to know that autumn is reaching the rest of Beqanna. His pale mouth reaches toward her ribs and the smooth dip of her belly. Perhaps they’ll add another resident to their island come spring.
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Yes, she would breathe in the water, just like him, but unlike Ivar, she wouldn’t be able pull oxygen from the water. Neither would she be able to get the water out of her respiratory system, which would cause her to drown slowly. It wouldn’t be permanent, but that is something neither Kylin, or Ivar, know. And thus, she is not willing to attempt breathing underwater.
She is lost in the sensation. At once her body is heavy, ready to sink to the bottom, and weightless as she floats. Kylin does not know if it are his deep thrusts right into her core that push her to the surface, or if it are the strong flicks of his tail. Right now, it does not matter, even attempting to keep near the surface is not the main thing on her mind.
Her peak is reached before his, and she shudders in the water as her body is wrapped an euphoric blanket. Almost as if she is high on the most powerful drug ever imagined. Kylin barely aware that they have already reached the shore, leaning on his shoulder as her hooves try to find grip on the sandy bottom. A small smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and her hazel eyes show that she is in the far and beyond. Even the slight burn of her shoulder goes unregistered by her mind.
“Hmm~” she hums agreeing, shifting her weight to press herself more firm against his muzzle. The slight burn of it starts pulling her back to earth, her hazel eyes – still somewhat glazed over – blinking lazily as she turns to look at him. She flicks her tail, playful, with the intention to let the strands land in his face. His good right. But not something she really means. His desire sparks something inside her too, causing Kylin to lean into his touch as a soft sigh escapes past her pale lips. “A penny for your thoughts?” her voice is light, airy even, and melodic with a satisfied hum to it.
Though he had suggested that she should rest, Kylin is hesitant to leave the water, that now reaches to just below the middle of her stomach. She likes the water, and although her body is sated – which makes her feel terribly lazy – she would rather just lounge right here. “Can’t we stay in the water? Only a little longer?”
She moves slowly, lazily, and Ivar mirrors that, his gentle lips tracing the curve of her side as the waves splash against them. He catches her tail as she flicks it against him, and this time he holds it, tugging gently as he lets himself drift closer. His chest presses against her side, and when she offers a penny for his thoughts he smiles wordlessly into the warm skin of her back.
“Only a penny?” He teases, running a sharp canine gently down the edge of her nearest piebald marking.
Kylin asks if they can’t stay in the water, and the kelpie smiles again, this time pulling away to press a gentle kiss to her lavender cheek. She doesn’t know what she is asking for, the kelpie thinks; they might never leave. Well, she might never leave.
The idea of it is tempting, and he wonders if perhaps she might have been emboldened by their recent activities. The purple mare has always been so compliant, so sweet and endearing. To Ivar, who often toys with women powerful enough to destroy him, the finned mare has been a safety net. (These are his thoughts, and he would need far more than a penny to share them with her).
“We might never get out,” he tells her, surprising even himself with his honesty. Ivar has always shielded Kylin from his kelpie nature; he’s let her think he’s nothing more than some melding of fish and horse. She doesn’t recognize the danger, and while his words might have been worded like a warning “I might not let you.”, they don’t sound like a warning as he breathes them into her softly curved ears.
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
She tugs her tail free from his grasp, and instead bumps her hip against his chest, knowing that if she would flick her tail at him playfully annoyed, he would just catch it again. The water pools around them, but all Kylin focusses on is his presence, and in the post-sex-high the lavender woman is more than happy to wrap herself in the blanket that is him. “You.. already have.. all that I have to give..” she murmurs, glancing away at the horizon as his – contradicting – sharp teeth are gently pulled down her neck. She leans in, though the way the combination of pain and pleasure makes her feel so good is still a mystery to her.
Her head tilts towards him, her own lips pressed against his cheek as she breathes in his scent, content. His words make her smile, and shake her head slightly as she glances away somewhat flustered. She thinks he is joking, though, bumping her nose against his neck. “Is that a bad thing?” she asks, her dished head tilting as she glances up through her lashes. “We both favor the water…”
And Kylin couldn’t be happier that the piebald ex-king had come to realise that. She might had said no to moving to Loess, but here, in Ischia, she has no reason to deny him. They’re home. And that’s exactly where the lavender girl wants to be. “I.. please don’t..” she murmurs. She likes the idea of him keeping her. Of not casting her aside, like others had. Pleading hazel eyes search his, and her lips are drawn down his neck before she moves to press them against the corner of his pale mouth. “Please? Only a little longer?”
She does not want to move to the shore and rest. She does not want to wake, and notice the cold, empty spot beside her. Ivar, ever since his return to Ischia, has always been there, but being left alone had secretly scarred her deeper than she would like to admit.
‘You already have all that I have to give’ she says, and Ivar cannot help but laugh as he traces the edge of her wet mane along the curve of her neck. “Do I?” He asks, and the answers seems rhetorical as he smoothes down the hair his hooves had mussed a few moment ago. His own bones are still orgasm loose, but he is a kelpie and it is the fall; he’d been ready for a second round as soon as they’d finished the first.
“Not a bad thing for me,” he tells her with a half-smile, his attention sliding to the delicately finned wings that flutter at her side. We both favor the water, she says, and Ivar wonders if she knows how much more the water favors him. It is harmless to him, gentle in a way it can never be to a creature that breathes only the air.
Please don’t, she says, and Ivar might wonder if she isn’t the one toying with him if he did not know her better.
(she wants it. she does.)
Her eyes are pleading, and though the kelpie remembers his promise it is hard to keep it when she asks so temptingly.
(she wants it. see, she asks.)
Ivar takes a step away from her and then another, backing into the deeper water.
“What do you know about kelpies, Kylin?” He asks, another step taken and the shore slipping out from under his hooves. She won’t be able to touch here, he knows, and she has already lost blood. She’ll lose more, if she follows him like he gestures her too. “Not enough, I think. Not enough to know what you’re asking for.” Desptie his words, his tone is less dismissive; if anything, it and his dark eyes mean to lure her closer.
“Will you give me one more thing?”
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
06-22-2018, 01:13 AM (This post was last modified: 06-22-2018, 02:27 PM by Kylin.)
There is nothing of value she can offer him. She already is his. Has been for a long while too. He already held a part of her heart, but any more than that part is not hers to give away, as she has already given it to others. But, of course, none of them are here. Ivar is. But has already possessed her in a way she never has experienced before.
She wants more of it. No, needs more of it. To be held. To be treassured. To be loved. In whatever way she could get. And she'd give everything to make him stay.
Sighing softly the lavender girl leans into his touch, shifting her weight to physically move closer. He says it is not a bad thing. "Then.. Why can't we stay?" Kylin does not understand, her hazel eyes pleading him. For what? To understand? To explain? To not cut off that what she desperately needs? Yes, dus is tired, but she is afraid too, knowing she would not handle it if she would wake up alone, again.
The confusion is clear in her gaze as he suddenly pulls away, soon followed by hurt, pain and eventually panic. A lump forms in her throat and her heart clenches painfully. As she looks at Ivar, she desperately shakes her head and extends her two toned neck to reach at him. The attempt is, of course, futile, as the ex-king is already far beyond where she can stand.
And yet, that does not stop her from leaving. Kylin barely hears his question, already pushing forward and further into the sea. That her body feels like lead is not the main concern on her mind. "Don't.. P-please.. don't leave me.." Her tears, fears and panic audible in her voice. Soon her hooves lose contact with the sandy bottom, and her legs kick at the water to keep going forward, as her head is barely held above the surface. Her body shakes with the efort to keep going, the adrenaline being the only reason she hasnt gone down yet.
"E-everything," she tells him, then dumping under before re-surfacing coughing as the salty water burns her throat. "Anything you want."
06-22-2018, 09:26 AM (This post was last modified: 06-22-2018, 09:30 AM by Ivar.)
I V A R promising everything i do not mean
“Kylin”
The way he says her name is at once an expletive and a prayer, a breathless exhalation that he nearly doesn’t recognize.
“Kylin.” He murmurs again into the curve of her ear, “my Kylin.” Ivar’s poll slips under her chin, keeping her head above the turquoise water.
“You want this,” the kelpie repeats, as though she might have forgotten her gasped ‘everything, anything’ from a moment ago. “You do.” It is enough to release him from his promise – this formation of a new vow – and he presses the want into her mind in a way he had once sworn to never do again.
It is different now, the kelpie thinks, she had asked for it.
“Don’t be afraid,” The words come before he ducks beneath her neck, a sinuous curve of muscled flesh that will support her chin as he rounds her left side. The kelpie has to spin to keep her head above water, but he is more agile in the water than any land creature has a right to be.
“You’re mine,” Ivar reminds her as he pulls her withers underneath him and fits his hips to hers. “Mine forever.”
This time he is slower, gentler. His mouth is tender, and each thrust of his hips is angled for her pleasure rather than his. Reading the beat of her heart, the sound of her gasps – it is second nature to him. There is no toying with her, there is no pain. The kelpie is not often a selfless lover, but Kylin deserves this.
“You’re alright,” he tells her as they slip beneath the waves. The afternoon sun illuminates the clear green water; the seaworld of Ischia is more lovely even than the earthworld. He wants her to see it, to know what it feels like down beneath the surface, where Ivar really belongs. Words aren’t possible here, but he presses calmness into each touch of his mouth to her withers, painlessness into her sides where he holds her tightly.
When she succumbs in, gasping for air that cannot come, Ivar shudders atop her. A child is conceived the instant water fills her lungs, but it will never grow in a mother that rests on the seafloor. It is sad; Ivar recognizes this on some level. Not sad enough for him to regret it, of course, and he presses a gentle kiss to her cheek as he moves away. She looks beautiful down here, with her pale mane drifting in the current. His forever now; just his.
Ivar smiles, satisfied and content.
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
06-22-2018, 11:19 AM (This post was last modified: 06-22-2018, 02:27 PM by Kylin.)
The way he says her name makes her insides flutter, but it is his touch that relaxes her. Without a doubt she rests her head on Ivar's head, her own legs and fins barely able to keep her head above the surface. "Ivar.." she murmurs in return as relief floods through her. "I want this," Kylin softly agrees, slowly blinking her heavy eyelids. She wants him.
Desires him. With an intensity she had not known was possible. A soft pleasured sound leaves her lips as he wraps himself all around her and allthough she is tightly held, she feels like she is floating. "Not afraid. Yours.. truly yours," she mummies, intoxicated by the gift he had said to never use on her. But what she does not know, wouldnt hurt, right?
Some aspects of their coupling would hurt, but he pushes all awareness of such thing to the back of her mind. Kylin is wrapped in a little bubble that exists of pleasure only. His touch, his thrusts, it is all he is aware of. She does not notice the bubbles of air that leave her lips and travel to the surface, instead it is the way his hips trust and give her pleasure is what she focusses on. Aside from that, the lavender girl is faintly aware of the gorgeous water life. Oh. How she has always longed to see this.
Deeper and deeper they sink, and Kylin shudders heavily under his body as she reaches her peak. The high coulds her mind, overrule everything else. Such as the pain of water being sucked into her lungs. No pain, no panic, only pleasure and the secure feeling of being held. Trusting that Ivar would keep her from harm.
But harm does follow him. The lack of oxygen first has her losing consciousness, and by the time she reaches the bottom of the ocean, the life slips away from her body. A smile lies on her lips, which curl gently and content.
