Winter’s grip is loosening, he pondered idly, eyes glazed over frozen on the tumbling water beside him. He dreams by the river’s sharp edge sometimes, among the alders and the moss and various wetland trees. Still the snow is ankle deep, knee and chest height in some places left untrodden; it is chunky and slippery, half melted and half mud. The usual deep jade palette of moss and hanging leaves of his hide-out is now gray, brown and white – and of course, the crystal waters rushing over beaten stones. This place has turned out to be a rather serene hang out, so serene that he expects someone to kick him out any day now…So far though, he’s been left to his desires, adventures, siestas in peace. That’s good enough for him to linger uninvited until told otherwise.

The river’s sound engulfs all things within a hundred or so yards of its path, drowning all else. One’s eyes become keen when lurking about in hidey-holes by the rushing water’s edge. He sees the broken azure pattern slither through the thick maple trees first and his ears perk even though their pretty useless at the moment. Soon after he’s assured it’s another horse, the starry roan bum of Sreva becomes obvious to him. He grins to himself and makes his way up the bank and through the small grove of maples between them, closing the distance. His lofty trot makes each step a prominent thud, throwing chunks of snow and mud in his wake. He comes in slow though and his nose is held out to meet Sreva’s gently, whuffing softly in part from trotting up the hill in snow and partly out of affection.

“You brought a friend.” His lips still on Sreva’s, pushing her lovingly while his teal eyes find the blue roan. He can read her reluctance, but he’s not sure if it is the normal amount of reluctance everyone sort of has when they’re in a new place or is it like, suspicious reluctance? He’s puzzled, but doesn’t let that play across his smirk and tilted bright eyes, wet with curiosity as they stiffen on Neoma. “Well, welcome.” He says this playfully and returns his attention to the mare at the end of his nose. He nibbles her, even licks her lips and cheek a little. Her longing is returned.

chemdog

astra inclinant, sed non obligant.

He skin is blanketed in goose-flesh when her lips trail the muscles of his neck beneath his mane. He moans, even growls a little and presses into her as she comes to stand beside him. His yeyes distractedly flash over the other mare but his body, his attention, is enveloped by Sreva and her mottled little curves. He cannot think of much else besides her fitting beneath him like a perfect piece of stone broken off from its mate. How they fit together smoothly, with ease. He nibbles her shoulder and leaves another swath of spit behind as he travels up her neck with bite-kisses. He gets to her ear, growling, breathing into her “I’ve missed this, you, your body…” He touches the shallow bulge of her chest muscles, dwarfed in comparison to his own – he loves how delicate a women is compared to himself. How gentle he must be, how fragile and sweet they are (well, some).

"She's not much of a talker, until you get to know her." The words go unnoticed, it seems, and he only continues to trace down from her ear to her cheek and down to her lips. He licks softly at the edges of her silky mouth, feeling the heat from inside the moistness behind her muzzle. “Will you come for a stroll with me?” The sun will set soon and so the moon will be out…she’s going to be big and glowing tonight. He remembers their moonlight walks, their times on the cliffside watching the waves lap under a silver grinning moon.

chemdog

astra inclinant, sed non obligant.