10-13-2017, 06:01 PM
The summer heat itched at his skin (it tingles against his nerves and there is no release even when the sun dips below the horizon) so he tricked his mind into thinking otherwise. At the beginning of his life (when he had been that cunning boy, before his knees had broken under the weight of evil, when he had spent his days learning from the pink queen, before he had given a tender yet miniature piece of his heart to the golden-eyed warrior) he had enjoyed the sweat from the sun. He would have delighted at how it burned against his skin.
Now he found there is no solace in any season. Fall brought the promise of winter, winter brought the promise of aching knees (the same knees broken and carelessly sewn back together), spring brought the promise of protective mothers and enthusiastic children, summer brought the anger of the sun. Perhaps he’d grown grumpier over the years (he tended to get grumpy when there is no sex to be had and no chaos to be created) but he would never admit that to himself.
Over the years of his life, the trickster had seen his fair share of unnaturally-colored bodies. Her contrasting colors drew him in, however. The green of her body against the red of her mane (the emerald of the grass under his hooves, the deep maroon splash of blood) and the sway of her hips stand out against the crowd. It had been too long since he had been with anyone at all and he certainly missed the fall days when he would sleep deeply from exhaustion.
He watched (with those cunning, striking eyes - one blue and black, one blue and white) until she settled herself. His gaze moved from her mouth taking a bite (lips reaching delicately) to her chest (swelling with every gentle breath) to her curves (slender, juicy, womanly). The trickster shook his tangled mane to rid himself of his devilish thoughts before he approached her.
He doesn’t say anything (he used to have a loud mouth as a youngster, but it had been a long while since his mouth had spoken) but he stood close enough to be slightly stalkerish (slightly creepy, watching her mouth take another bite). He’d let her come to him (as they all do).
Now he found there is no solace in any season. Fall brought the promise of winter, winter brought the promise of aching knees (the same knees broken and carelessly sewn back together), spring brought the promise of protective mothers and enthusiastic children, summer brought the anger of the sun. Perhaps he’d grown grumpier over the years (he tended to get grumpy when there is no sex to be had and no chaos to be created) but he would never admit that to himself.
Over the years of his life, the trickster had seen his fair share of unnaturally-colored bodies. Her contrasting colors drew him in, however. The green of her body against the red of her mane (the emerald of the grass under his hooves, the deep maroon splash of blood) and the sway of her hips stand out against the crowd. It had been too long since he had been with anyone at all and he certainly missed the fall days when he would sleep deeply from exhaustion.
He watched (with those cunning, striking eyes - one blue and black, one blue and white) until she settled herself. His gaze moved from her mouth taking a bite (lips reaching delicately) to her chest (swelling with every gentle breath) to her curves (slender, juicy, womanly). The trickster shook his tangled mane to rid himself of his devilish thoughts before he approached her.
He doesn’t say anything (he used to have a loud mouth as a youngster, but it had been a long while since his mouth had spoken) but he stood close enough to be slightly stalkerish (slightly creepy, watching her mouth take another bite). He’d let her come to him (as they all do).
LOKII