01-23-2020, 12:18 AM
----------------kiss me until i can't speak
He follows her down the jungle path.
They pass a stand of yellow hibiscus, and Pteron’s olive eyes flick to the pink center of the flowers, thinking that they are nearly the shade of Aquaria’s seastar. What if he did find someone else to lead Ischia? What if he brought Adarra here, and she and Halcyon become fast friends? Pteron is thinking of the fun the two children could have, but when his gaze meets Aquaria’s, the dun stallion’s train of thought shifts. A flicking blue ear confirms that the colt they’d left drowsing in the sun has not followed them. What if he had a reason to return to Ischia? A responsibility greater than a leading a territory?
He’s painted himself a picture of life in paradise: eternal sunshine, their children content, his wife and worries left far behind and the start of a new life with Aquaria at its center. And she only wants a few days. Pteron suspects that the woman in front of him thinks his dragon less than formidable. Perhaps she has not met a dragon, he thinks. Maybe she does not understand that Pteron will have to ruin his wife’s wings to keep her from flying after him, will have to shatter her legs to keep her from pursuit. Perhaps she simply does not understand what he is offering.
Another tactic then. He’s not sure what inspires him, but he is sure that the Aquaria walking along slightly ahead of him is somehow always more beautiful than he remembers her. The nereid steals his breath whenever he sees her, and this time is no exception. Somehow, his heart is pounding faster than their pace calls for, and he finds himself reaching out to where she ambles beside. He traces one sinuous line from the point of her hip to her neck, and the warmth of her skin travels through his and sets his veins alight. The feel of her pebbled scales against his mouth and cheek are familiar, and he suddenly remembers the feel of them beneath him.
Is this some water-witch trick, he wonders; does she spin his desire as easily as she sculpts the waves?
His long stride allowing him to overtake her and then turn his body to block her path with it. Face to face, Pteron meets her gaze, searching for something in them to match what he is feeling.
“A few days” he parrots her words, his mouth so near her own that he can taste the sharp tang of the seawater dried along her lips with each word. There is nothing in the world but the two of them, Pteron thinks; nothing else that really matters. Pteron leans closer still, so that every word is a kiss. “You feel this too.” It’s not really a question, but only because he is sure she must. The way that she feels like the sunshine and snow and all his favorite things, the way each part of himself is somehow a magnet to every part of her?
-- pteron --
@[Aquaria]