"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
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
His darker needs now sated, Ivar seeks out @[Heda].
She has been more difficult to find of late, secluded in the rocky landscape. Since their run in with the red-eyed wraith and his snarling companion, Ivar has worried more about the young Queen. A crown is a heavy weight, and Loess is not an especially secure land. Their guard consists only of Ivar, though he does hope that Castile will soon join him, along with Zhenga. Faer did not seem entirely cut out for battle, but not everyone does. At least he is another figure on the hillside, a testament that their kingdom is not entirely empty.
The piebald stallion has kept himself busy – recruiting, stealing, he means to mock with anyone that will take him – and now in this brief moment of quiet, he is looking for his queen.
Time spent in his spring has cleansed him, and the black and white stallion is gleaming. He is the picture of handsome virility, a marble-figure come to life to roam the hills of Loess. Ivar could have any woman – and he has had many – but he remembers that soft bit of love that Heda had given him one dark night, and that is what he wants now. It had been something so pure and soft and light, so very different from the instinctual desire of the kelpie, and he had found it intoxicating.
He had known that very moment that she was
(safe. forever safe. forever his.)
But he has not had a moment to tell her lately.
Following a trail, he finds her on the slop of a hill, her golden figure illuminated by the slowly setting sun. The sunset is dull compared to her, he thinks idly, and moves forward to wrap his scaled neck over hers, burying his head in the silken strands of her navy mane.
“Show me your love again,” he murmurs into her ear, inhaling her familiar scent and exhaling with a contented sigh. This is what he has been craving, a quieter sort of desire, gentle and familiar. The others mean nothing when he has Heda beside him; alluring Isobell and dark-eyed Karaugh are pale memories.
It has been nearly a year since that first fumbling attempt to display his affection, and he wonders if Heda is aware of that. So much time has passed, and yet it seems like so very little. She’d projected love that moment, such a small amount, and yet he has never been able to rid it from his head. He wants more now, and he drags his scaled muzzle across her soft shoulder, tugs gently at a stray feather in her mane, and waits for her to project the love that he is waiting for.
10-18-2017, 09:29 PM (This post was last modified: 10-18-2017, 09:29 PM by Heda.)
Heda
She has grown fearful lately. With Sylva at her neck, she hardly knew what to do with herself, especially with the terms of the alliance seeming to tear her apart. It was about damn time to take a break from kingdom duties, to take a load of despite her instinctive caring nature, and the obligation she held to her country. So she wanders into the confines of her own space, solitude and bliss engulfing her body, as she rested atop a hill. Hidden from the world, hidden from all except for him.
She knows he'll come to her soon, and so she waits, flexing her wings impatiently, awaiting her prince charming to come running to her mental rescue.
It doesn't take long for his wickedly handsome frame to kiss the horizon and her hazel hues light up, and her wings flutter at her sides, as chills run down every bone in her body. His touch so gentle as he wraps his scaled self around her, her golden neck bowing to caress his shoulder, as she nuzzles up against his scaled hide. "Needy aren't we?" She jokes in a low whisper. She pulls back releasing herself from his heavenly embrace, and wrapping herself around him. She inclines her crown, brushing her muzzle against his neck and smothering him in kisses, each kiss embellished in love, allowing the feeling to slowly wash over him, the way a chill runs down the spine.
Wings unfurling, and in a low temptress voice, "Now she me your love." A roguish grin finds a way onto her lips, as she pulls away from him, the navy tresses of her tail swish impatiently. She needed this, she needed him.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Ahead of them, the sun sinks down behind the western mountains. A flare of color lights up the craggy vista – soft blue, pale lavender, rosegold. The winds that hurry the last visible clouds across the sky stirs the two horses as well, and Ivar’s attention is on a hank of Heda’s navy mane. It flutters in the wind, catching the last rays of light, and he tames it easily with a press of his muzzle.
Many things are easy to tame (even those that are not his intention).
“Needy, aren’t we?” She teases him, and a low rumble of laughter echoes from his throat. He had been demanding, he supposes with a moment of reflection, but he had never doubted that Heda would give him what he asked for. She’s always done so, even from the very moment they’d met. She’d swept him from frowning Merida, showing him the realm of Loess that he had come to see. Ivar had been barely more than a boy then, enthralled by the novelty of this strange land and the charming beauty of the buckskin queen. The winged mare had surprised him with the sudden reciprocation she’d shown, pressing herself against him when he had least expected it.
Ivar wonders idly what had become of that odd little mouse. Now though, the stallion knows the reason. Even young, not quite in his prime, he was impossible not to desire. That’s been proven time and time again, especially recently, when the leaves have begun to fall. Heda had never had a choice, but as she glances bay at him coyly from over her shoulder, Ivar finds that it doesn’t matter.
The kelpie smiles, already sated this evening by an equally willing mare. There is no need for Ivar to be anything but gentle as he moves forward, his bloodlust satisfied on skin far less precious than Heda’s.
She asks him to show her his love. No, she demands it, because she is his queen. That gives him a different sort of thrill – pleasant certainly, but of a different sort. Ivar could oblige her easily, hook a leg over her hips and pull her to him. Instead, he chooses to toy with her for a moment, insatiably curious as to her reaction.
“Haven’t I been?” He says quietly, the tone of his words and the soft kiss he presses to her hip an indication that he doesn’t expect it to be answered. Inch by inch he moves the scaled creature moves up Heda’s side, running his sleek muzzle in whirls and spirals along her golden coat. Heda had asked him to show her his love, but Ivar suspects it might be even more pleasant for her to beg him for it.
Separate from his physical caresses, little bits of his lust pressed into her with each one, Ivar continues to speak, his voice low and muted.
“Surely I’ve been proving my devotion?” He ducks beneath her wing, the warmth of his body pressed to hers as he sweeps his muzzle along her neck and shoulder. “Bringing in recruits, patrolling the border.” Her softly beating throat passes beneath his caress with no unnatural desire; (he could, but he does not need to.) “Making diplomatic visits, training for the guard.” He lists the accomplishments that she knows of, each of the contributions to the kingdom that she rules. Ivar, who was raised by a queen-mother who did not care much for kingdoms, cares little that Heda does not shoulder most of the responsibility of the kingdom.
Heda is the decision-maker, it seems, the rest of the tasks fall to others – and in this case to Ivar. It has never bothered the young stallion, if anything he is grateful for responsibility to keep his mind and body occupied. There is only one time of year – this time of year – that he longs for more free time. He needs to pursue game in the autumn, and he has been. Tonight he’s returned from one such successful hunt, and Heda is the warmth that he intends to fall into before the day breaks.
“What more could you want of me?” Ivar asks, having rounded her far side, pressing kisses laced with hypnotic lust, with desire, with need and urgency into every inch of her golden skin. Pivoting to stand beside her, he presses his scaled shoulder into the warmth of her barrel, his dark eyes dancing wickedly.
Like a snake his body spirals around hers, as if collecting in imaginary coils around her, as if she was his prey. His words entrance her, as he spirals his muzzle over every inch of her body, and then rather swiftly moving beneath an extended golden flecked wing, he’s just full of surprises tonight, she thinks as that roguish grin of hers widens, in curiosity to what his words are leading to.
Devotion, recruitment, patrolling, diplomatic, guard all words that should not be used when making love, and she grows impaitient that smile of hers slowly waning, diminishing by the second. Did he not understand the phrase: Show me your love. She had given him what he wanted, and she knows what’s he’s perfectly capable of delivering her pleasure, so why toy with her, his queen. “Are you are asking for a promotion?” She chuckles at the thought, yet due to her impatience her tone grows sour.
Although he begins to shower her with kisses, sweet, hypnotic, she relaxes as he questions her voice still soured by impatience, “Ivar, I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want your love.” She answers in a sweet whisper, hazel eyes glinting with desire. As his scaled shoulder presses against her golden hide, she leans into him, tightening her wing around his barrel.
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
She responds to his touch, bringing a pleased smile to Ivar’s pale face. He had known that she would – he is himself after all, and he knows Heda well. His teasing words, however, do not go over as well as he’d intended, and there is bitterness in her laugh after she asks if he is asking for a promotion. Rather than give her an answer, he laughs, and the scaled stallion continues to trace the line of her neck. Taking a step forward, he slips from the shelter of her wing, allowing it to fold into her so he can slip back.
‘I want to be yours,’ she says, and the kelpie smiles.
The desire in her hazel eyes is mirrored in Ivar, and this time he does not toy with her. (Though he does want to; the hunt itself is just as enjoyable as the kill).
“You are mine,” the stallion says, rearing up to grasp her hips with his forelegs. Ivar’s words are gentle in her ears as he pulls her back to him, as he settles his weight atop her body. “You are mine.” The possessiveness of the statement gives him a primal thrill, the instinctual satisfaction of knowing that she belongs to him.
Ivar is a kelpie, and the knowledge of how to please a mare is instinctual. She had asked for his love, and he gives it to her, the breathy whispers and the flutter of her heartbeat acting as his guide. When she is finished, and they on level ground again, Ivar moves to wrap his neck over hers as he stands beside her once.
“Is that what you wanted, my sweet?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice as he lips at her throat. “If not, I’d be more than happy to try again. ”
His kisses against her neck had been soft, but this time there is a painless hint of teeth, a match to the wicked light in Ivar’s brown eyes. He is still playful, and he’s most certainty satisfied, but he cannot help but be curious as to what Heda’s boundaries might be.
The possessiveness in his tone surprises her, for what she knew she had always played the possessive one in their relationship, but when he advances on her she doesn't protest. Pulling her towards him with hooked limbs, and his deep possessive vocals she breaks beneath his will. Engulfing her mind and body with pleasure, and she purrs beneath his weight, expelling cries of love from her tender sweet lips. Until she finishes, with heavy sex sated breathes, and sweaty limbs.
She finds herself, nestled beside him, allowing herself to lean against him, and curling her golden crown around his scaled chest. Hazel gaze flickering meeting his gorge brown eyes, and some how a sweet roguish grin finds it's way onto her velvet lips. "Yes, it was perfect my love." She answers between breaths with sweet vocals.
She purrs against him, caressing his shoulder in return as he showers her with kisses, but what she hadn't expected form her gentle lover, was the the small nips he hid within those kisses, and she flinches as if flies were landing on her. Her hazel hues meet him, confused by her rather "rough" notion, but she does not protest, she remains silent gently caressing his, spiraling her muzzle in circles.
Go ahead. Laugh at the girl that loved to easily
html by call
Before Ivar's rise to power in Autumn. Sorry for the wait
I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
Possessiveness is inherent in the kelpie, but he has no interest in the jealousy that often accompanies it. It is useful in others, like when he had taunted Isobell, but that is only because of how inclined the piebald mare had been to the assumption of monogamy. Ivar has never discussed such things with Heda, but he is all but certain she feels much the same, especially given her reaction to Karaugh’s blatant ogling of the black and white stallion.
The thought of it brings a small smile to Ivar’s white mouth, and he rubs the buckskin shoulder beside him mindlessly. The salty sweat on her skin adds a tang to the kiss he presses to her, a welcome reminder of the pleasure they had shared. She is less receptive of his playful nips, flinching away, and the stallion does not persist. She is fragile, he reminds himself; her value is not measured only in the satisfaction he can draw from her body.
Others are measured that way – most others, truly – but Heda is different. She has a skill that none of them do, her intangible emotional magic, and Ivar is loathe to lose that. He risks it, he knows, but hopes that the length of their relationship, the sunk cost of it, will be enough to keep her beside him.
He should tell her, he knows, tell her that she is not his only the way that he is hers. It is not guilt that drives him (he’s never felt such a thing), but rather a logical weighing of his options. Better she find out from him, in a way that he can control. Better that than she find him tangled with another, forcing him to chase after her, to reason, to explain.
“I’m going to start a herd,” he tells her, pulling gently at the knots of her blue mane. “Here in Loess, I mean.” He is quick to add that, not wanting her to think that he is leaving, or worry that he is abandoning his duties here. The silky strands of hair soon lay smoothly across her soft yellow neck, and Ivar buries his face against her for a moment, breathing in her familiar scent. The hunger is rising again, unsatisfied by their gentle lovemaking, and Ivar steps away, but only to glide his cheek down the slope of her back.
He considers taking her again, as the autumn leaves fall around them, knowing how good she will feel below him, how delightful her breathy moans sound in his ears. The stallion moves to stand behind her, his neck and head resting along her spine as his chest presses against her tail. Even this is comfortable, but he knows that sex is what draws them closest, and he waits with a mischievous question in his eye for her to turn her head to face him.
“Would you like that?” Ivar asks as he presses a kiss to her right hip, and another to her spine. “To be my lead mare, my queen, mother to my children?” The stallion had meant to wait, to tease, but his instinct melds too well with the words he says to her. He shares his need with her as he rises over her again, as he places the gentle kisses she needs along her neck, reminds her with his own gift that she will “want him, need him.” his breath is warm in her ear, the words clipped and short only as he spills himself inside her for the second time. “You’ll be safe, protected. Mine.”
kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis minimal grullo tobiano king of loess
It's totes fine! Maybe we could start a spring thread after the 15th, to keep up with the timeline? :)
She presses closer against him, as his muzzle too meets her golden shoulder, spiraling across her side. And she in return, presses sweet love embellished kisses along his piebald scaled neck, and funneling back down to his alabaster shoulder, where she continues once more with her spiraling caresses.
But her sweet rubs cease when he speaks of a herd, a herd of other whom he would slum about with. She pulls away from him, confused as to why he had decided to create such a thing. Did she ever cross him? Thus leaving him to this decision, was her love not enough for her prince charming? For a moment she feels like she's gonna choke, a sore lump forming in the back of her throat, as she gazes at him confused and concerned. But when he speaks of starting a herd in her kingdom, she grows even more puzzled, navy tinged limbs tense, as her mind tries to wrap around the thought. She had just promised herself to him, and he to her. Was all this just sex? With no strings attached?
"A Herd? Are you sure?' She murmurs, in a rather concerned and perhaps even hurt tone. She had never expected this from her knight in shining armor. But when he moves towards her, once more pressing his body against her, and running his cranium against the slope of her back, she is too confused to protest against his affections. And when he moves behind her, resting his cranium on her rump, and pressing his chest against her navy tail she doesn't protest, she's curious to see where he's going with this despite her previous feelings on the idea. She gazes back at him curiously.
And he question her, of what she thinks.She's hesitant to speak, as he places a sweet and very distracting kiss against her hip, and another on her navy striped spine. "Perhaps." She answers, a curious glow remains in those hazel eyes of hers. And then he asks her if she would be interested in being his lead mare, and the thought sends pleasurable chills down every bone in her body. "why not?" That roguish grin of hers finds a way back onto her velvet lips.
And then he rises upon her once more, filling her with pleasure. She releases love infused moans, as he sends kisses down her sunlight nape, they were gentle and sweet. His heavy warm breaths find their way into her lobes, as she cries out in passion with an eventful climax, his words echoing within her mind "You'll be safe, protected. Mine.". As he slips off her back, and she nestles up beside him out of breath, and completely in love.
![[Image: dc9b5pd-da224f9b-4062-4ac8-924f-4dd26147...1Y8jmwEofM]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/07886fb6-93e3-433a-98d3-b27bd42023e6/dc9b5pd-da224f9b-4062-4ac8-924f-4dd26147d99a.gif?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzA3ODg2ZmI2LTkzZTMtNDMzYS05OGQzLWIyN2JkNDIwMjNlNlwvZGM5YjVwZC1kYTIyNGY5Yi00MDYyLTRhYzgtOTI0Zi00ZGQyNjE0N2Q5OWEuZ2lmIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.geTcHHU6VYVUl2A4eZOJJP7O2w_nw1yix1Y8jmwEofM)
