i never said that i would be your lover
i never said that i would be your friend
i never said that i would take no other
In the hour that she should be rearing back from him, spurning him, driving him away she is pressing in, turning her cold shoulder toward the world rather than Litotes. This woman is loyal, she is honest, she is true. She continues to be all of those things even though it has only hurt, even though her heart hardens and her love grows barbs. If it is wrong to choose him then she will bear the weight of the wrongness. She will face a world that accuses her of loving a monster with a smile and a fury of love that will never again be mistaken for weakness.
Fight for me. She commands and her monster obeys, pressing into her the weight and force of his larger frame, pushing her back until she shoves back into him. They jostle, and their hooves turn the pretty stream and delicate grasses into a muddy mire. Kisses leave behind a trail of wetness that the cool mountain air chills even as her skin heats with the molten flush of desire. Those teeth that wounded her in Loess drag over her pelt like plowshares, catching on the curves and angles of muscle and bone. Shuddering, Kensa presses her lips against his his shoulder, stamping as she drops her teeth against his withers. Her lips trail along his back and side as he makes his way along her body, He is merely lusty, rough, but she nips him hard on his side, his flank. Resisting, kicking at him even as she feels her stomach grow taut when his lips brush low along her belly and tickle her flanks.
He coils around her like the reptiles he’s been keeping company with. Behind her he presses close and she clamps her flaxen tail but leans back into him. Her head is thrown high, chin tipped heavenward arcing wantonly when he burns a trail of kisses down her spine, his breath like fire on her back. Litotes pauses at the dock of her tail, rumbles in a way that makes her hocks give a little.
Kensa bucks, throwing her haunches against the cremello stallion to shove him away, though he is too close for her to make much if any impact with her hooves. Undaunted, he curls up her opposite side even though she’s not done fighting and has thrown a smattering of mud over both of them. His kisses come hot again, tracing constellations on her belly. He is out of her reach, but she has turned her face back toward him and her eyes are not the wild of a frightened mare but the smoldering dark of a woman who demands submission even as she craves a little violence.
The sabino turns into him, and light travels along the veins of gold that delineate her markings before she throws herself into him. Mud sucks at her hooves and turns her white limbs filthy, her lips blaze a trail along his ribs. Her tail flags, and snaps whip-like a distraction from the kisses that mirror the ones he’d given her, but she punctuates them with a nip to his belly, daring him to kick at her like she had him. Smugly observing the quiver of a hind limb as she butts her muzzles against his belly, unpredictable teeth too close to his apparent arousal for him to be too comfortable. Kensa is not to cruel as that, her lips only brush close, a taunt along belly and sheath to drive him to the madness she’s felt since he first set foot in this whispering grove.
@[litotes]
