11-09-2018, 08:52 AM
When she speaks of others that might claim Ischia, he thinks of the green-haired stallion,the Tephran that he would enjoy watching slowly rust on the pale sand bottom of Ischia's waters. The thought brings a scowl; such plans require effort and Ivar is at heart a slothful creature, disinclined to commit himself to anything that does not guarantee immediate satisfaction.
Yet he has already spoken a promise aloud, and he is like his father in many ways. Some things he cannot break, and so rather than think of Kromium he instead traces the line of her fresh muscle with his roving mouth. Her words do not let him linger long in distraction; they tug him from the sea of contentment with reminders of the world that exists outside the two of them.
"You sound as if you doubt my capabilities," he says into her withers, kneading at the soft grey with the pinprick edges of his teeth. They scrape against the edges of the scabbing wound he'd given her on their last meeting, and the memory of it is enough to dull his reaction to her next words.
Not until she is snapping forward does he react, and it is not quite fast enough.
Perhaps it is the keratinous strength of her beak or the softness of his scaled throat, but a pair of scales- one sapphire and one gold - are dislodged from the plate just beneath his jaw. Ivar snarls, neck drawn back, but he doesn't move farther away. This is not the first time a woman has tried to mark him, but it is the first time one has been successful.
He imagines ripping her apart for it, wondering if the tentacles might move even when severed from her body.
Instead he touches his nose to hers, sliding his muzzle lower until his teeth hover over the pulsing beat of her heart in her throat. It is still cold, he finds, but her skin is soft and pliable beneath his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble.
"Why don't you go back and take your Pangea," he says, "and I will do the same for Ischia."
@[Yidhra]
Yet he has already spoken a promise aloud, and he is like his father in many ways. Some things he cannot break, and so rather than think of Kromium he instead traces the line of her fresh muscle with his roving mouth. Her words do not let him linger long in distraction; they tug him from the sea of contentment with reminders of the world that exists outside the two of them.
"You sound as if you doubt my capabilities," he says into her withers, kneading at the soft grey with the pinprick edges of his teeth. They scrape against the edges of the scabbing wound he'd given her on their last meeting, and the memory of it is enough to dull his reaction to her next words.
Not until she is snapping forward does he react, and it is not quite fast enough.
Perhaps it is the keratinous strength of her beak or the softness of his scaled throat, but a pair of scales- one sapphire and one gold - are dislodged from the plate just beneath his jaw. Ivar snarls, neck drawn back, but he doesn't move farther away. This is not the first time a woman has tried to mark him, but it is the first time one has been successful.
He imagines ripping her apart for it, wondering if the tentacles might move even when severed from her body.
Instead he touches his nose to hers, sliding his muzzle lower until his teeth hover over the pulsing beat of her heart in her throat. It is still cold, he finds, but her skin is soft and pliable beneath his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble.
"Why don't you go back and take your Pangea," he says, "and I will do the same for Ischia."
@[Yidhra]