[mature] i feel a bad moon rising - Wolfbane

[Wolfbane]

When I'm alone slow dancing in the dark

He takes her and he takes his time, both impossibly complementary to one another when just a minute ago his body screamed for instant release. A more selfish mate could’ve, but Wolfbane encourages the thought that they were made for this (both Pegasi, both creatures of intense highs and lows) and so he rests his head along one side of her blue-curtained neck and together they defile her marriage bonds.

The time spent inside of her prompts him to forge new ones anyways.

Unspoken, the nonsensical words tumble together in a string of broken vows that, if said, would sound like, “She has become my wings,” or “Eternally felt and known.” Though seeing as they’re brought on in the heat of his arousal, Wolfbane keeps them to himself. He only wants this - Lepis - and so he takes just that, spinning out into a numb universe made up of her sighs, the smell of her sweat, and how they both seem to know what the other wants and where.

Just when the light grows strong enough to glance off the small pool, Bane grows too weak for restraint. A tether of himself is cast out into the waters of his Queen’s body, linking them irreversibly come hell or high water. Groaning like the animal he truly was, Lepis’ consort takes another greedy second of holding her tight underneath him before slipping away, pleased beyond measure.

Words might only ruin what he longs to convey in this breath of afterglow, leaving Wolfbane silent when otherwise he might’ve been idiotic. He feels nothing, yet all at once something, and so for good measure takes to rubbing his soaked forehead against the still-heady curves of her haunch. What he doesn’t feel is guilt (or victory either, for that matter) like he supposed he should. Everything that’s transpired between them threatens to upheave the careful peace they’ve spent so many years building but all he can sense is truth, the ironclad kind.

The Loessian-born mare was his now, and that shocked Bane because he’d never been the possessive type before.

“Don’t go.” He tells her flatly, a command or request. “Stay a while longer, let me love you.”

That sounded a bit softer, coming from the tongue of man who’s been dying of thirst for her.

Don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms

Lepis