Seemed like mutual disappointment was on the menu tonight, Kestrell thought. Nothing was getting rubbed, she’d told him - and he had no reason to doubt that sultry, sharp tone of voice. That was fine. In the same way as her, he could deal with smaller letdowns. Not to say that anything about her was permissible; given the chance, Kestrell might be inclined to muster up a “yes ma’am” if she barked out an order at him.
He might even like it.
She came ‘round the oddly-shaped bathing pool while he watched, all shimmery under the faded light of the jungle canopy. He studied her, taking notice of the way her pelt shifted color from shadow to sun and how the black streaks of her markings shot through the hazy blue-green. She could’ve done laps at that point; Kestrell was more than satisfied to simply watch her move.
The dame stopped cold instead. Very nice, Kestrell laughed at the back of throat, observing the single leg she offered for show and how it was dressed so nicely in a black stocking. His smile lingered afterward, even when the energetic snap of his eyes refocusing on her face felt more… intense. This time around, the rosy tint was as cutting as her tone.
“Can’t have that, can we?” Kestrell asked sarcastically.
He pushed off from the bottom of the pool, deep enough in that the majority of his body had been obscured by the dark, green-tinted water, and held both wings just above the surface on his way toward her. Near the edge where she stood, Kestrell pulled himself up and out of the lagoon, trailing water wherever it could flow freely between the hard-cut angles of his body.
Sopping wet, the bald-faced stallion was perfectly content not shaking the excess water loose. It only served to highlight the angle of his oblique shoulders, the gentle rise-and-fall of his thick chest, and the lean curve of his belly - supported by an equally fine set of flawed yet sturdy legs. Weathered scars on his knees, cannons, and even forearms gave the pegasus a rough-and-tumble look.
“Something that sweet begs to be tasted,” Kestrell sucked in air between his teeth, “but -” he tilted his head, troubled.
“- I’m afraid you’d be susceptible to melting from the heat, in that case.”
No, he shook his head, nonplussed as if to say, that won’t do.
“I’m not built for the wilting rosebud types.” Kestrell sighed playfully, perhaps a bit longer than necessary.
His attention turned suddenly to the infinite maze of jungle surrounding them, as if the flora could possibly be more interesting than what was playing out right now between them.
“And you’re right about one thing, I admit: it’d be downright dangerous for us to rub anything together.” Kestrell relaxed, dripping casually. “Who knows what could happen?” He muttered under his breath, not the least bit sly at flicking an ear to hear her speak.
He might even like it.
She came ‘round the oddly-shaped bathing pool while he watched, all shimmery under the faded light of the jungle canopy. He studied her, taking notice of the way her pelt shifted color from shadow to sun and how the black streaks of her markings shot through the hazy blue-green. She could’ve done laps at that point; Kestrell was more than satisfied to simply watch her move.
The dame stopped cold instead. Very nice, Kestrell laughed at the back of throat, observing the single leg she offered for show and how it was dressed so nicely in a black stocking. His smile lingered afterward, even when the energetic snap of his eyes refocusing on her face felt more… intense. This time around, the rosy tint was as cutting as her tone.
“Can’t have that, can we?” Kestrell asked sarcastically.
He pushed off from the bottom of the pool, deep enough in that the majority of his body had been obscured by the dark, green-tinted water, and held both wings just above the surface on his way toward her. Near the edge where she stood, Kestrell pulled himself up and out of the lagoon, trailing water wherever it could flow freely between the hard-cut angles of his body.
Sopping wet, the bald-faced stallion was perfectly content not shaking the excess water loose. It only served to highlight the angle of his oblique shoulders, the gentle rise-and-fall of his thick chest, and the lean curve of his belly - supported by an equally fine set of flawed yet sturdy legs. Weathered scars on his knees, cannons, and even forearms gave the pegasus a rough-and-tumble look.
“Something that sweet begs to be tasted,” Kestrell sucked in air between his teeth, “but -” he tilted his head, troubled.
“- I’m afraid you’d be susceptible to melting from the heat, in that case.”
No, he shook his head, nonplussed as if to say, that won’t do.
“I’m not built for the wilting rosebud types.” Kestrell sighed playfully, perhaps a bit longer than necessary.
His attention turned suddenly to the infinite maze of jungle surrounding them, as if the flora could possibly be more interesting than what was playing out right now between them.
“And you’re right about one thing, I admit: it’d be downright dangerous for us to rub anything together.” Kestrell relaxed, dripping casually. “Who knows what could happen?” He muttered under his breath, not the least bit sly at flicking an ear to hear her speak.
@Stargaze