08-18-2018, 10:15 PM
Ivar is quick to recover the lost ground between them, suddenly closing the distance as his heated breath works it way over her shoulder. With a solemn gaze, she watches as he reaches beyond, and feels a gentle tug on the strands of her pale tresses. She remains steadfast as his retraction comes away with a stray piece of seaweed.
The cooling winds graze upon her shoulder in his absence where he'd momentarily lingered, but a fresh heat stirs when his nose finds the point of her jawline. Closing her eyes slowly at his touch, she does not press into it, but tilts her head slightly in the opposite direction, without breaking the connection completely. The warmth of him seems to force itself into her cognisant desires, and she finds herself wanting to follow him--wherever that may be.
When his pressure is no longer riding into her, and his contact releases, her eyes reopen to align with his; the minute coquettish light her deep gaze now holds is unmistakeably now. The leopard woman's gaze finds his golden one easily, holding it with unfaltering attention as her telekinetic inclinations reach outward, searching for the seaweed where it lay upon the sands at their hooves. Once found, she raises it between their gaze for a moment, before delicately placing it back into the tangles of her alabaster mane. Did she really want it there? Hell no, but she was a subtle (open for interpretation) stubborn broad, and the small defiant action in and of itself was a testament that in spite of whatever mind fuckery game he was playing at, she was not entirely willing to deviate from her person. Yet his influences were still heavily upon her, and he only need say his wants one more time, and she'd willingly follow him wherever.
Breckin cannot help the steps she's already taken a few paces past him, in the direction of the western isle he had alluded to. She'd been careful to pass the length of him closely, but remaining a hairsbreadth fraction just out of immediate reach. A part of her game, she knew, always a game. For the brief time she had spent in Beqanna, and for lack of memories in general, it would be assumptive that she was still a virgin. But this label rang with undeniable untruth in the deep recesses of her conscious self. She understood this dance well enough.
"What if," she dares, stopping and turning her head back slowly with an inquisitive tilt, "I've already found something to distract me."
@[Ivar] Sorry this is not great. I lost the original and was half asleep trying to remember what the first draft said. >.<
The cooling winds graze upon her shoulder in his absence where he'd momentarily lingered, but a fresh heat stirs when his nose finds the point of her jawline. Closing her eyes slowly at his touch, she does not press into it, but tilts her head slightly in the opposite direction, without breaking the connection completely. The warmth of him seems to force itself into her cognisant desires, and she finds herself wanting to follow him--wherever that may be.
When his pressure is no longer riding into her, and his contact releases, her eyes reopen to align with his; the minute coquettish light her deep gaze now holds is unmistakeably now. The leopard woman's gaze finds his golden one easily, holding it with unfaltering attention as her telekinetic inclinations reach outward, searching for the seaweed where it lay upon the sands at their hooves. Once found, she raises it between their gaze for a moment, before delicately placing it back into the tangles of her alabaster mane. Did she really want it there? Hell no, but she was a subtle (open for interpretation) stubborn broad, and the small defiant action in and of itself was a testament that in spite of whatever mind fuckery game he was playing at, she was not entirely willing to deviate from her person. Yet his influences were still heavily upon her, and he only need say his wants one more time, and she'd willingly follow him wherever.
Breckin cannot help the steps she's already taken a few paces past him, in the direction of the western isle he had alluded to. She'd been careful to pass the length of him closely, but remaining a hairsbreadth fraction just out of immediate reach. A part of her game, she knew, always a game. For the brief time she had spent in Beqanna, and for lack of memories in general, it would be assumptive that she was still a virgin. But this label rang with undeniable untruth in the deep recesses of her conscious self. She understood this dance well enough.
"What if," she dares, stopping and turning her head back slowly with an inquisitive tilt, "I've already found something to distract me."
@[Ivar] Sorry this is not great. I lost the original and was half asleep trying to remember what the first draft said. >.<