02-18-2017, 01:06 PM
Stillwater
They were like the tide of the sea; sometimes roaring and crashing, beating beach and cliffside alike, butting heads and scowling so fiercely as she did now. Sometimes burning in frustration and turning away from each other, overturning great ships in their mighty struggles for balance, struggled to find a way they may fit and cooperate. Become a heady force.
Other times they were quiet, a gentle whisper of seafoam washing up on shore to tenderly embrace the warm sand, cradle it so close until they were a loam of sea and sand, a beautiful blend of nature. Able to stand or lie so comfortably next to each other, lulled and calm and right. Peaceful, and perhaps even compassionate.
But they weren't like that now, though they had been just minutes before, swept away like an ebb of tide. Now they were crashing again, an attractive frown delicately folding her brows as he held her captive to him.
As she held him captive to her.
There was a subtle shift as he'd touched her so gently, as he traced a path of his craving into her soft coat. It was a change that had him wondering again if they could be linked in some way, finding himself unintentionally mirroring the new heat that crept into her sharp eyes, the flow of his blood rising to a stormy current. Dark and intense, he studied this new reaction with immediate interest.
He'd always persisted with her, poked and prodded and tried to get a rise from her without success. She had always been so cool and guarded. So he was skeptical when she finally seemed to be affected by him, even a little, but dearly wished to ignore that doubt. Wanted to sink into this moment without the nagging mistrust that she would want to trick him in some way. Trap him again.
Her response to his question was breathy, almost confused. As though she were off-balance. Somehow it was a natural response to flow into her, line his warmth along her side and fill the gap he'd chipped away, become her strength, the current that held her afloat. The soft line of his muzzle rested lightly on her neck again, on the curve of muscle in her lovely arch. But he didn't push this time, didn't poke and prod at her in his persistent way. Only held there, steady.
Perhaps this was where their balance lay hidden from them. Perhaps that was why he had always been urged to constantly nudge at her, dig and claw away at her impossible armor. To the eternal source beneath.
Djinni.. was all he said, a soft and hesitant question.
Other times they were quiet, a gentle whisper of seafoam washing up on shore to tenderly embrace the warm sand, cradle it so close until they were a loam of sea and sand, a beautiful blend of nature. Able to stand or lie so comfortably next to each other, lulled and calm and right. Peaceful, and perhaps even compassionate.
But they weren't like that now, though they had been just minutes before, swept away like an ebb of tide. Now they were crashing again, an attractive frown delicately folding her brows as he held her captive to him.
As she held him captive to her.
There was a subtle shift as he'd touched her so gently, as he traced a path of his craving into her soft coat. It was a change that had him wondering again if they could be linked in some way, finding himself unintentionally mirroring the new heat that crept into her sharp eyes, the flow of his blood rising to a stormy current. Dark and intense, he studied this new reaction with immediate interest.
He'd always persisted with her, poked and prodded and tried to get a rise from her without success. She had always been so cool and guarded. So he was skeptical when she finally seemed to be affected by him, even a little, but dearly wished to ignore that doubt. Wanted to sink into this moment without the nagging mistrust that she would want to trick him in some way. Trap him again.
Her response to his question was breathy, almost confused. As though she were off-balance. Somehow it was a natural response to flow into her, line his warmth along her side and fill the gap he'd chipped away, become her strength, the current that held her afloat. The soft line of his muzzle rested lightly on her neck again, on the curve of muscle in her lovely arch. But he didn't push this time, didn't poke and prod at her in his persistent way. Only held there, steady.
Perhaps this was where their balance lay hidden from them. Perhaps that was why he had always been urged to constantly nudge at her, dig and claw away at her impossible armor. To the eternal source beneath.
Djinni.. was all he said, a soft and hesitant question.
go down with me, fall with me, lets make it worth it