04-10-2018, 05:59 PM
Out with the golden we sew, and the lower past that crawls.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
Now, to the doorway you run, to the girl that's not lost.
There'd been an air of lightheartedness on Svedka's part throughout this interaction (as it must be rather difficult to think seriously with pink flowers adoring your mane), but at my final question, he balks. The guard of blase flirtation drops, revealing the depths of the stallion that refuse to be denied. So he does care. This fact makes me smile, but only in that cynical I told you so kind of way. Of course he cares.
The frown he sports melts into an expression of gravity, and I blink coyly in response. Let him endure the silence. I have so little to say. But then, quickly, another smile is replacing his stoicism, this one warmer than before, as if he truly intends to prove his damn ability to care. My ears press back, and my lips tug down. I don't want his pity.
There's an answer for his question just behind my tongue, when suddenly he is pressing his warm, soft lips to the point of my cheek. Despite all my flirtations and goading words, the sensation catches me off guard, and I flinch away; but before he can retreat, I am once again pressing to him, quivering as he goes without first getting permission to slide his mouth along my neck, coming to rest at the base of my shoulders.
It's not that I want this; but it's not that I don't. I'm a spirit watching the doings of my earthly vessel from a place between reality and death; and frankly, what happens to her is no concern of mine. A shuddered breath escapes me. My vessel is aroused; awakened by this stallion's air of rightful ownership of me. Taking command, so that I can fully dissociate; relinquish control.
"Sometimes the simplest idea leaves knees the weakest." Following after the murmurs, my lips reach for his sun-and-cloud skin. I touch just at the base of his mane, shifting away the dreaded hair there to breath along his arcing neck. He tastes like the lake; he smells like flowers. (A fucking nymph; as sweet as spring).
"Tell me," I say softly to the sinews of his neck, "Have you ever wanted to die?" Without warning, I take his flesh between my teeth and bite down hard. I can't quite tell, but as I lick my lips, I'm reminded of the taste of blood. I reach out again and slowly pull his mane through my mouth, allowing him to put some distance between us if he wants to, but giving him all the reason to stay.
My heart rate climbs, and my tremors intensify.
"Those as beautiful as you often do."
The frown he sports melts into an expression of gravity, and I blink coyly in response. Let him endure the silence. I have so little to say. But then, quickly, another smile is replacing his stoicism, this one warmer than before, as if he truly intends to prove his damn ability to care. My ears press back, and my lips tug down. I don't want his pity.
There's an answer for his question just behind my tongue, when suddenly he is pressing his warm, soft lips to the point of my cheek. Despite all my flirtations and goading words, the sensation catches me off guard, and I flinch away; but before he can retreat, I am once again pressing to him, quivering as he goes without first getting permission to slide his mouth along my neck, coming to rest at the base of my shoulders.
It's not that I want this; but it's not that I don't. I'm a spirit watching the doings of my earthly vessel from a place between reality and death; and frankly, what happens to her is no concern of mine. A shuddered breath escapes me. My vessel is aroused; awakened by this stallion's air of rightful ownership of me. Taking command, so that I can fully dissociate; relinquish control.
"Sometimes the simplest idea leaves knees the weakest." Following after the murmurs, my lips reach for his sun-and-cloud skin. I touch just at the base of his mane, shifting away the dreaded hair there to breath along his arcing neck. He tastes like the lake; he smells like flowers. (A fucking nymph; as sweet as spring).
"Tell me," I say softly to the sinews of his neck, "Have you ever wanted to die?" Without warning, I take his flesh between my teeth and bite down hard. I can't quite tell, but as I lick my lips, I'm reminded of the taste of blood. I reach out again and slowly pull his mane through my mouth, allowing him to put some distance between us if he wants to, but giving him all the reason to stay.
My heart rate climbs, and my tremors intensify.
"Those as beautiful as you often do."
Kagerus
sweet nothing
@[Svedka] oops
![[Image: kag]](https://78.media.tumblr.com/2e8039018ce4dff6112c167ec23e886a/tumblr_p72zjit7wC1s5a0qvo1_100.png)
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