03-09-2017, 08:37 PM
And this...
Under the wakening eyes of the stars, against her skin, his own trembling against her touch, she talks of weakness. The dark male feels the way her lips move over his body like finger tips over ancient texts, making sense of the scars, the old ruins of his skin. Lior does not show a sway of emotion, silver eyes seeking the beautiful depths of her own. His jaws tightens, taunt skin slick under the moon light.
She speaks of weakness...even to him. Does the painted queen still feel the need to show her power? To have him fear her? He would move mountains, realigned the constellations so one day they could be together forever amongst the gods and their heavens...but no...in this moment, between desperate breathes, reaching lips, she speaks of weakness.
It is not weakness he has thought he has witnessed, cradled, captured. Lior, in all the rapture, had thought he had found her true self. A queen in their eyes but in his? In his, a tender word, a whispers of sweet words had been reflected in the mercury of his eyes.
Lior does not turn away but he feels a pang in the muscle that inhabited the bone cage in his chest. Still, in this moment, she talks of power. Dark lobes twists as she folds into him, he gingerly places one leathery wing over her in a tentative embrace (he now must fear her rejection again in the simple statement that has dripped like honey from her lovely lips.) Lior presses his face against the curve of her neck, listening to the calm roar of her blood. "An heir..." His lips curl into an pleasant smile against her skin. The stallion is not interested in a legacy, so to speak, but a child of their own? He had never considered a child that was desired before. The times when he had been forced to copulate...that was of no will of his own.
Lior continues to smile against her skin, resting his shoulder lightly against her. They could talk of vulnerabilities, of weakness and power at another time. For now, he decides to focus on the growing life in her womb. "Thank you." The gravel of his voice murmurs gently as he continues to smile against her skin, warm breath misting against the curve of her throat. A time would come when a discussion must take place that he knew would force her to make a decision but for now?
For now he can pretend that she is not a queen and he is not a monster. For now they can be lovers under a pale moon.
Under the wakening eyes of the stars, against her skin, his own trembling against her touch, she talks of weakness. The dark male feels the way her lips move over his body like finger tips over ancient texts, making sense of the scars, the old ruins of his skin. Lior does not show a sway of emotion, silver eyes seeking the beautiful depths of her own. His jaws tightens, taunt skin slick under the moon light.
She speaks of weakness...even to him. Does the painted queen still feel the need to show her power? To have him fear her? He would move mountains, realigned the constellations so one day they could be together forever amongst the gods and their heavens...but no...in this moment, between desperate breathes, reaching lips, she speaks of weakness.
It is not weakness he has thought he has witnessed, cradled, captured. Lior, in all the rapture, had thought he had found her true self. A queen in their eyes but in his? In his, a tender word, a whispers of sweet words had been reflected in the mercury of his eyes.
Lior does not turn away but he feels a pang in the muscle that inhabited the bone cage in his chest. Still, in this moment, she talks of power. Dark lobes twists as she folds into him, he gingerly places one leathery wing over her in a tentative embrace (he now must fear her rejection again in the simple statement that has dripped like honey from her lovely lips.) Lior presses his face against the curve of her neck, listening to the calm roar of her blood. "An heir..." His lips curl into an pleasant smile against her skin. The stallion is not interested in a legacy, so to speak, but a child of their own? He had never considered a child that was desired before. The times when he had been forced to copulate...that was of no will of his own.
Lior continues to smile against her skin, resting his shoulder lightly against her. They could talk of vulnerabilities, of weakness and power at another time. For now, he decides to focus on the growing life in her womb. "Thank you." The gravel of his voice murmurs gently as he continues to smile against her skin, warm breath misting against the curve of her throat. A time would come when a discussion must take place that he knew would force her to make a decision but for now?
For now he can pretend that she is not a queen and he is not a monster. For now they can be lovers under a pale moon.