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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    [mature]  bottom of the deep blue sea; ivar
    #1
    Isobell
    i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
    Their lovemaking had gone on for hours. He would take her, hold her close and press his lips to every inch of her body till she begged to feel him inside her. Isobell moaned his name softly with jagged breathes against his skin as she gazed up at him with helpless, hungry eyes till he wracked her body with wave after wave of delicious orgasms. Time and time again, as they floated beneath the waves, when she thought her body would burst from satisfaction, his arms would float around her as he nibbled at her tender places, pressing his tongue and lips to the velvet folds of her womanhood. She could not resist him and would return with her need till he filled her again and again. Finally, out of sheer exhaustion, they must return to the shore to rest. Isobell preferred the water just as the stallion but she wanted to sleep and sharks did not wash up on land often alive.

    The painted woman moves as though her body weighs a thousand tons. She only emerges enough from the crystalline edges of the water so she could lie comfortably in the warm, dry sand. The water still lapped at her hind hooves when she decides to lie down in a rather unladylike manner, flopping with no regard to his opinion. A satisfied smile is on her lips as her lids grow heavy over her silver eyes. She waits for Ivar to be near before she succumbs to the heavy fog of sleep. 

    The sound of seabirds wake her at sunset with Ivar at her side. Pewter eyes trace the way his sides fall slowly in his sleep. The infamous Ivar of Leoss lay snoring gently at her side...she smiles before she starts to find her feet...to return to Nerine.

    He of all people would understand.

    Isobell rolls her legs beneath her as she looked north to Nerine, her face glowing in the setting sun but something tugs at her. Something binds her legs so they will not cooperate. Isobell frowns, tossing her two toned mane from her face till she catches sight of that slow rise and fall of the painted man. She stares, his breathing nearly in time with the tide, and Isobell slowly lowers herself back down to the still warm sand, nudging closer to the long back of the kelpie till her face was pressed softly against the crest of his neck. She savors the warmth of his skin, eyes closing contently for a bit longer.
    #2

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
    The light is hazy around them. The thick clouds of late autumn make it impossible to tell what time of day it is, but Ivar doesn’t mind. Darkness does not matter to the water creatures; they are accustomed to dim surroundings. He’s only faintly aware that they’re leaving the water at all, so focused is he on the mare beside him. His dark mouth is tracing the pattern of her coat, mouthing gently as though he is not already intimately familiar with each scale and every wound.

    Maybe the scales will grow back differently, he thinks, the way that scars often do. Maybe they’ll be a reminder of this day, of this thing between them. He’d tried again, tried to tell her, but she hadn’t acknowledged him. There was no doubting that twitch though – Ivar knows the piebald mares, knows that she had heard him.

    But she’d wanted sex. Just sex.

    And he wants that too, of course, and so it is easy to forget the more complicated things. It’s easier to lose himself in the kelpie queen, to bury his face in her dark hair and give himself over to pleasure. There are languid times between the frenzied, times when he holds her tightly for a while afterward, content to taste the pulse of her throat beneath the sleek plane of her throat. She gives as good as she gets, of course, and Ivar trusts the silver-haired mare without hesitation.

    She is no longer than slight creature of their first encounter – virginal and fragile. She is stronger now, more mature, more beautiful.

    Even when she drop to the ground, Ivar is too in awe to think anything less of her. He follows her down to the sand, laying so that she can rest her head across him rather than the sand. He’s lying halfway in the surf when he finally drifts off to the sound of scuttling crabs and Isobell’s deep breathing.

    He wakes just as slowly, though ahead of him the grey horizon is now tinted with rubies and rose. The cloud cover has dissipated to reveal a glorious sunset, and Ivar cranes his neck to look back at Isobell. She is kneeling on the sand beside him. Ivar rolls over to his own knees, shaking of the sand as he rises to his feet.

    “Where should we go now?” He asks the ridge of her neck. He traces it with his dark mouth until he reaches the top of her head, kissing her poll gently before pulling away. It never occurs to him that she might intend to go somewhere without him. She had come back to him, like he’d told her that she could. This is the end of their time spent on land. They will raise the child that Ivar has planted in her belly – because of course he had, so perfectly had they coupled – and they will never look back at this shore again.


    king of loess
    minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus

    #3
    Isobell
    i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
    She is rested, glowing in the thin veil netted in gold and orange of the sleepy sunset, dazzling the moonstone and obsidian scales that covered her slender body. Some where missing here and there, pink stained and naked places where he had laid claim to her body and she had given it without protest. Isobell lays with her legs nested beneath her as she watches him stir from his heavy slumber.

    She had heard his remark and she may intend to test the full weight of that statement but for now she is with him and only with him as he is with her. There is no other scent on his skin, no other claim to his body but her own. They are slowly creating something other than the life that Isobell does not relaize is growing already.

    The sand he shakes from his scales peppers her lightly, coaxing a girlish grin from her lips as she makes a small squeal of  'Ivar!' in a playful scolding. But even now, when his dark eyes meet the pale silver of her own, she can see an eternity in their depths. It was frightening to see that far into his soul but welcoming to know that neither of them are a king or queen. It feels like they are young again with their teasing and taunting grins. Isobell can not help but smile at him, handsome and gleaming, basking in the simple quiet of their chosen resting place.

    "Anywhere." Her voice is a bit low and husky because of the countless time she cried out in pleasure from hours earlier. "Anywhere with you." Isobell would not confess her intentions or departure for fear those dark eyes would no longer show her what could be a possibility for them, in another time, another place. All the kelpie mare knows is that she needs to be by his side for she could not bear the thought of him elsewhere.

    Isobell rises to her feet with uncanny ease before she kicks sand at the stallion and launches herself from the shore into the water with so much effort that it was not a graceful landing and the left side of her rib cage would be tender but she wants to be in the water's embrace, to wash away the sand that clung to her hair and scales. Isobell easily resurfaces to look for her stallion with an echoing laugh, blowing water from her nostrils. Had he stayed on land or was he already in the water?
    #4

    I V A R
    i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
    He wants to hear that squeal again, to feel it against his tongue as he tugs her beneath the water. There is some primal thrill in the action, an electricity that races through him. That instant her eyes blink shut is better than all the others, and she opens them again only to blind him with her smile. Ivar releases his toothsome grip around her throat but does not pull away from her. The dark water around them seems more frigid than before, and he is loathe to lose her warmth (or that pleasant friction against her thigh).

    Their nap has replenished him, it seems, but he pulls away with only the gentlest of nips at her scarred shoulder.

    The red haze has passed, that wild frenzy of reproduction and hormones. Yet she is still the loveliest thing he’s seen above or below the water, and the idea of leaving her for anything – for land, loess, or love of another – seems unfathomable.

    Anywhere, she tells him. There is a hiss of air exhaled between sharp teeth between her words, and the scaled creature slides inside her gracelessly as she repeats it. She is Ivar’s undoing even without touch, the same intangible bond that kept her at the beach sealed between them now.

    “I love you,” he commands, and it seems an odd thing to do until he follows with a: “know that I love you.” The kelpie punctuates it with a bite to her neck, a bite that he drinks from with gentle kisses even as he fills her with thrusts that are more instinctive than pleasure seeking.

    “Do you have more goodbyes to make this time?” He asks when their heads are above water and the moon is a sliver in the deep maroon sky. He is not thinking of the last time he’d said this, of when he’d lingered in Nerine only to find that her goodbyes would not end. He is only thinking of the future, of what wonders they might find beyond the edge of the horizon.

    “I hear there is a land of ice that never melts, and deserts so hot that it never rains.” Ivar lingers over the words, drawing them out as he draws his muzzle down the line of Isobell’s spine. “I think I’ll avoid the latter, but I’ve always fancied exploring a good glacier.”


    king of loess
    minimal smoky grullo tobiano | equus kelpus

    #5
    Isobell
    i'll wait for inside the bottom of the deep blue sea
    For what it feels like, this is the first she has felt a pleasure with him that is pure. There are no undertones of sex and whispering promises. Even when he has gripped the curve of her throat, she does not believe he will tear it out (at least not today) and she purrs playfully. His release of her precious larynx leads to the unwelcomed chill of cold waters and it's ability to make the kelpie mare gasp with surprise.

    The swirl of her two toned mane floats out around her scarred shoulders, a tingle where he leaves a resting nip. Isobell wonders if he regrets it...did he feel a resonating guilt or is he proud of his making? She wonders if he would attempt to do it again to another young, lovely thing. It was not a very far fetched idea truthfully...But for now, under a growing dark sky, it is just the two of them.

    Isobell welcomes the feel of his body sliding into her with a soft moan, her head lifting back to spill her hair down the length of her neck as she feels the way he grips her, posses her with a violent, delicious greed. She wants to be wanted and he fills her desire eagerly. She can feel the pulsing of his love, the words are echoing in her head but just as she tries to respond...to make the sense of the words he presses him to her...he finishes and slides from her and she melts into his side, draping her head over his perfectly unmarked shoulders.

    "Let's go. Let's go now." She only answers what she wants to, always ever the one to pick and choose. The painted woman presses a kiss to his withers. "The glacier then." She offers him a quirked brow and coy grin from the edge of her dark lips despite her dislike for the cold. She wanted to see frozen caves and ice so cold that it was blue. Another nudge comes from the bridge of her scaled nose as if to tell him to hurry up, silver eyes shining with bated excitement.




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