01-15-2017, 12:15 PM
He forgot what he was doing. He seemed to be forgetting a lot of things lately. It was her fault, though, this time.
She lay there, curled in on herself. Her blue wings were all wrong, but the rest... was almost right. Almost right. He was helpless as he was pulled straight to her like a machine with a directive, unblinking. Nothing could divert him. That tug reached so deeply, coiling around his cold heart and locking tight. Helpless. The smog in his mind swirled, but didn't clear. But movement was good, right? Something in him needed her.
Blood dripped unheeded in his wake, as it always did, escaping from around the ruptured bone plates standing out of him. One day it would be an armor, but at his young age it only reached a few inches. The shard on his face would become a mask, the magician had shown him that, but for now it only went from nostrils to eyes. Smaller plates would come from the sides, just after his mouth, but it would never cover that spot of blue coloring the corner of his lip.
He breathed, standing over her with a new softness in his eyes. Was she asleep? She was almost right; her color, her sweet innocence. It may be enough.
Dark muzzle lowered to touch hers, smell her, feel her. Blood smeared across her perfect velvet, and he felt immediate regret. But she was so soft. And she was almost right. He lowered himself, curled around her so carefully, trying not to stain her with more blood. He failed of course, blood was everywhere. But it was his, and not hers, and that should matter.
His mouth hovered at her nape, breathing her. It wasn't right, but it was still so very good. Hot breaths sank into her hair, and he stayed there silently, ready to pin her to him if she moved as he explored the feel of her against him. Almost right. But right enough.
Mine..
She lay there, curled in on herself. Her blue wings were all wrong, but the rest... was almost right. Almost right. He was helpless as he was pulled straight to her like a machine with a directive, unblinking. Nothing could divert him. That tug reached so deeply, coiling around his cold heart and locking tight. Helpless. The smog in his mind swirled, but didn't clear. But movement was good, right? Something in him needed her.
Blood dripped unheeded in his wake, as it always did, escaping from around the ruptured bone plates standing out of him. One day it would be an armor, but at his young age it only reached a few inches. The shard on his face would become a mask, the magician had shown him that, but for now it only went from nostrils to eyes. Smaller plates would come from the sides, just after his mouth, but it would never cover that spot of blue coloring the corner of his lip.
He breathed, standing over her with a new softness in his eyes. Was she asleep? She was almost right; her color, her sweet innocence. It may be enough.
Dark muzzle lowered to touch hers, smell her, feel her. Blood smeared across her perfect velvet, and he felt immediate regret. But she was so soft. And she was almost right. He lowered himself, curled around her so carefully, trying not to stain her with more blood. He failed of course, blood was everywhere. But it was his, and not hers, and that should matter.
His mouth hovered at her nape, breathing her. It wasn't right, but it was still so very good. Hot breaths sank into her hair, and he stayed there silently, ready to pin her to him if she moved as he explored the feel of her against him. Almost right. But right enough.
Mine..
