[mature] i've never fallen from quite this high; Aquaria

[Pteron]

finger trips across my cheek----------------
----------------kiss me until i can't speak

It was lonely, she explains, and the idea sounds foreign. There is so very much to see down here, so very much to explore. How could there even be time to be lonely when every ridge on the sea floor might hide an unseen treasure like these reef that spreads around them? It is not that he doubts her – he could never – but each glance shows him something he has not even imagined before. There, at his feet, a little bug with a seashell on it’s back. No, not a bug, he finds, but a tiny crab that disappears into the shell as he taps it gingerly with his hoof. Pteron snorts, amused, and then there is suddenly nothing funny at all in the way her breath sends the damp strands of his mane aflutter.

She hushes his protests, and picks apart the knot of reservation that he means to keep between them with every soft word. She unravels the threads, and with them the control that Pteron has. When she looks away at the mention of his love, he pulls her back, his nose beneath hers, to press a hard kiss to her mouth. His eyes meet hers, cautious despite the racing of his heart, but Aquaria’s words sound sure, and there is little enough reservation in him to question them. So instead he falls back to kissing her, to tracing the pattern of scales along her jaw and chin and throat, to nipping gently at the places on her withers that he had found so delicious from another angle. He thinks of biting harder, to see if she might gasp in the way that had so thrilled him, and then he is the one with the breath forced out of him.

He had not noticed the water, as temperate as the heat of his own skin. “Not a little fish,” he breathes against the slope of her withers, the words exhaled quickly, before a low groan accompanies a bruising bite to her side, “A witch. A seawitch.” He buries another moan in her side, and gasps “My seawitch.” There must be nothing beyond her reach, he realizes, and that she has brought him here, shown him this… Pteron’s teeth break her skin when he spills himself, but he kisses the broken scales with utmost tenderness right after, and murmurs her name between each one, an whispered apology until he has control of himself again.

“I am a little sad we are beneath the sea,” Pteron says with a smile against her ear as he pivots his hind legs, as he draws her beneath him and kisses the bloody mark (the claiming mark, some primal part of him shout) on her shoulder before pulling her back with his forelegs so she might feel his readiness. “Because I intend to satisfy” he uses her own word, what she has said, as he smiles against her neck and buries himself in a warmth far more glorious than the sea, “To satisfy you until all of Ischia knows my name.”

@[Aquaria]

-- pteron --

Okay we are fading to black