[mature] Travelled half the world to say I belong to you - Breckin

[Leilan]

In case anyone is stalking, this thread is marked mature and this post probably has details not everybody wishes to read. Contains limited violence(?) and definitely 18+ text. Proceed at your own risk.

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Of course, he notices her deep inhale upon release, strangely satisfied by the effect, but then she also grunts, and he knows how much the break annoys her. Ah, well - he’s always annoying, one way or the other, and he finds the little sounds she makes quite adorable in fact, so he just smiles a little behind her back and otherwise pretends not to have noticed.

She takes some time to react to the little reassurance he gave her, a deep-rooted promise on his side, and he wonders if perhaps he shouldn’t have; maybe she didn’t want to be reminded of what he’d done. What they’d done, in fact, though his part was decidedly the largest. And he couldn’t find it in himself to blame her for causing the trouble, when all she’d done was run from something that had slightly scared her.

All he ever wants is for her to be happy and safe.

Her return is just that; I love you, a phrase he had never expected to hear only a year ago and he can only hope to coax it out of her so many more times. Rubbing his head against her shoulder, he grins against her hide for nothing in particular, it’s just one of those stupid smiles that she manages to get from him whenever she gets entirely cute and adorable.

She talks more, and he lifts his head to look at her when she demands he doesn’t speak to her with words - not any more. But it’s the small bite that seems to be an activation button; in an undecided reflex, his teeth sink into her withers once again, this time though he is less inclined to let go.

He manages a forced release though only after a few heartbeats. There’s a drop of blood now from the sharpness of his teeth, and he kisses it away smoothly, hoping that wasn’t too much.

As if trying to make up for that, and for the break and making her wait, he trails over her skin again. This time more ruggedly; not as smooth as he might have in the past, there is less control in those motions - instead some kind of need and want is fuelling him. He finds a soft spot on her underbelly, grazing his teeth over the sensitive skin, trails up to her tail end, and decides she could use a small nip there like she did to him before. A kiss somewhere along her spine. A playful push ad hot breath right behind her ear. Did he get to all her soft parts yet, no wait, he lowers his head and tucks himself under her neck, evidently lifting her head with his own, to suddenly take a small nip at the middle of her chest where her neck and shoulders come together in a small triangular place that’s sensitive and vulnerable - between the places that are otherwise protected by muscle or bone.

He uses this as an opportunity to slide towards her other side which he hadn’t, “loved” on, so much yet. It’s the side that had been pressed against himself instead of the rock earlier, and from which he had approached to hug and slightly crush her, but otherwise, was still totally whole. Hmm. Question is does she want to keep it that way? He rubs his head along her side, but frankly, he decides he doesn’t want to, because he has another goal in mind, and continues to move towards her haunch instead, adding one last teeth mark there. He knows the scales that slide alongside her are probably rough enough to evoke enough certain sensations, knows that if she ends up fully bruised and bleeding she might not appreciate it later, and thinks she needs a relatively whole side to present to the world on whatever diplomatic meeting she has next (but honestly, he wants them to know she’s marked and she’s his even though she might not like him to have such a possessive thought). He has no rights and yet she keeps giving him permission (or maybe if she didn’t, he may or may not have ignored any protesting sounds she makes because he knows that deep down she wants to explore the feelings, too), and by now, he is too far gone not to go through with any of it.

He rounds up behind her, simply snaking alongside and behind her as if maybe he wants to make another circle around her, and he wants to, for a moment - but there’s another intake of breath, of the scent of her, or maybe it’s the feeling of her warmth radiating from her skin, or the memory of her saying don’t let go because she liked his pressure upon her and the way he’d pulled her head back. Either way, the decision is made split-second, and he lifts himself on his legs and turns, grabs her strongly between his forelegs, gets a hold on her mane, and easily finds the spot to enter her. It’s just one fast and needy thrust, for starters, and as far in as he can get, but it’s enough to make him close his eyes a heartbeat, and slightly shudder against her despite how much he wants to do it smooth and just right for her; this feeling of her, in every bit of him, it overtakes him and he just lets it; under the softer and only lightly scaled parts of his own belly, surrounding her as much as he can - he rubs his head against her shoulder for the moment that should last an eternity, though he knows that it will not.

All fired-up and needy, he then just takes what he wants, starts the movements that he knows so well and yet are new, with her it’s different, with her he’s whole, and he gets to be more rough with her than he ever had been before with anybody else, is clinging to her body like he’s drowning and she keeps him afloat, like he’s falling and she’s the only thing he can cling to to preven sudden death; the rough-scaled hide on his legs or the hooves he desperately uses to keep up with her, may sting her precious skin. But it had already been broken in places, and he knows she’ll heal, or forever be marked his with a few scars and he can’t honestly mind about that right now.

All his movements inside her are needy, and wanting and near the point of desperation; but when he opens his eyes and sees her crest he lets go of her mane. A bold and daring move, in the heat of passion or jealousy or both, he sinks in his teeth where less than a year ago, another had claimed her hide and skin. He can’t bear the scar, the mark of another, not right now, not when he’s finally having her all to himself. And maybe she’ll yell. Maybe be she‘ll buck (which would just be working for him, with the way they’re aligned now). It may be too painful and she may get entirely angry. But it’s too late. He’s got this hold on her now, has his teeth and his body as much inside her as he can muster, and when he can’t bear the pressure and pleasure building any more, it’s with a tremble and a shocking body and a gasp for breath that he releases her crest, spills himself inside of her, and shakily sinks his weight on her spine because he can hardly keep standing upright. Gasping for air flows into heavy breathing as he rests his head on her shoulder, and loses the tension in his legs so that it becomes more of a slightly awkward-positioned dead-weight hug instead of such a strong and clingy hold from before. His mind still foggy, until he realizes the damages he’s done, blood trickling down her neck, and he blinks as if waking up all of a sudden. It takes all the strength he can muster to lift his head and touch her neck below the new wound he’s made over the old one, assessing the damage. Though he hasn’t torn muscle or skin apart, the incisions are deep and clearly from a much sharper, more pointy set of teeth, surrounding the old scarring tissue. With a sigh, he breathes against her neck, not really wanting to let go. But he knows he’s heavy on her, and judging by the way she’s breathing, he might be better off giving her some space, and starts unwillingly on the backwards move to pull out and set her free once more.

@[Breckin]

[Breckin]

Admittedly, his reaction to what she requests is not what she had been expecting.  Nearly as quickly as she had asked her scaled stallion to let his actions speak for how much he loved her, then does she feel a sharpness at the base of her neck.  It would seem that he had decided a bite deep enough to draw blood would be the best way to make a statement or grab her focus.  His choice is well received, because for as startled as she is by his sudden aggression, she is equally surprised by how much she can easily find her own pleasure in it.

The pace of her heart intensifies, practically fluttering arhythmically when he starts and enlightening path at her underside.  For a moment her head turns to watch him work, but his methodical movements rouse a sudden rise of irritation for the slow pace he sets.  It’s all she can do to not snap at the air between them, wanting to voice her dissent with an unsubtle gesture to spur him into a faster rift.  Instead she finds some restraint, choosing to preoccupy herself by closing her eyes to watch the bloom of sparks that set off against the perpetual black.

And now she wonders if he’s trying to connect the dots that adorn her body, nearly certain that he uses fire to draw the line, feeling as if she’s tingling and burning everywhere he makes contact.  From her underside to the curve of her rear, back over top and along her spine, then adding a spot of pressure behind her ear before nipping at the hollow point of her chest, she keeps herself victim to the darkness behind her fallen lids, still feeling the perfect path he’s traced over her.  Pale ears rotate swiftly as he moves from one side to the other where he falters somewhere behind, the sound of movement suddenly fading to nonexistence. 

The sudden lack of sound is deafening, and it nearly causes her to open her eyes to question him, but the pressure of him wrapping himself over her barrel and the way he pulls her into him keeps her quiet.  Only for a moment though, until he easily finds the way his hips so perfectly align with her own, the sensation of his warmth finding its way into her at last causing an audible gasp to be forced through her lips.  Compensating for the added weight over top, her ivory hooves shift outward, hopelessly attempting to keep up with the near ravenous execution of his movements.  They’d both been so starved for one another, so desperate for each other’s affections, she can hardly find the means to mind the way his hooves heavily cut into her sides, entirely too overwhelmed by the sheer pleasure his hungered thrusts evoke.

She’s only mildly aware of the release of her head that had been so delicately craned backward by his grip, too caught up in the feeling of him so welcomingly overtaking her.  But the brisk pain of jagged teeth finding ground in the recently healed part of her crest jolt her unexpectedly out of her blissful stupor, eyes opening in response to the sharp assault.  The brief pain and surprise of it makes her take a small step forward, conflicted instincts fighting to come out the victor in the quickest of internal battles.  Despite her initial reaction, both mind and body settle again, only to be swept back into the storm of carnal chaos shared so beautifully by the both of them.  Gods did it hurt, but some twisted part within seemed to revel in the passion fueled intensity so clearly driving his choices, and the way it made her heart feel as it though it was trying to escape from her chest. 

Everything became sharper and heightened then, piqued by a sudden shift of adrenaline and hormones filtering into a tightness that begged to be undone.  The harder he worked, the more desperate his movements became--so obviously fueled by that love she had pleaded him to show her--it coaxes her closer to the edge, closer to that final stand and that helpless, vulnerable fall.  And just before he comes upon his own release, he manages to push her over that precipice.  As her spotted frame tenses and shudders beneath him, she makes a faint sound remarkably similar to a satisfied whimper.

They stay entwined for awhile, her own smaller body bearing the weight of both of them as their heart beats and breaths begin to normalize. She tries to hide the way she starts to struggle, her breathing unable to find the right depth to keep her from feeling slightly lightheaded, or maybe that was the drunken high of ecstasy she was coming down from. Or both.  But he gently withdraws, releasing her to her own devices and she shivers at the lack of heat surrounding her that she had become accustomed to.

“Now you can verbalize how much you love me also,”  she says with a tired smile, moving to stand beside him with a brush of her flushed lips against his shoulder, her dark eyes searching to see what color his have become. 

Breckin holds his gaze longer than necessary before shifting towards the ocean’s horizon with a soft sigh.  “I should…” she begins with a guilty expression, taking a couple steps slowly towards the entrance.  She’d spent practically the whole day with him, not that she regretted it, but she’d been neglectful of the routine of her normal duties.  She should try to go do a couple more things before the dead of night set it, before the day was completely (but amazingly and blissfully) wasted.

Another step, but her body denies her further movement, seemingly too low on energy to allow her to budge more.  As much as she might like to, Breckin just doesn’t have the will to fight it right now, and her heart rejects the idea of leaving Leilan either.  Her head lowers while simultaneously resettling her weight comfortably over her slender limbs.  Despite her unwillingness to actually move, her heavily weight lids threaten to close entirely, and she stubbornly resists the sleep that threatens to overtake her.  “I’m sure I look like too much of a mess anyway,” she mumbles, entirely too aware of how bloodied and sweat soaked she had become.

@[Leilan]

[Leilan]

Honestly, he does nothing much premeditated; he just does. It pleases and satisfies him though, that the small nips and bites and the temporary puncturing of her skin on her shoulders, are things she doesn’t mind about: that it just gets her heart to beat quicker, her gasps to grow shorter, he skin to glow hotter. And he wants to taste and tease and feel everything about her, all in the same time if it’s possible, though he knows her can’t - he’ll still try.

He smiles a bit at her closed eyes - it would make feeling so much more intense, but he needs her approval of what he does, and so he tries all those different touches on her, but apparently all is good or nothing is good enough, because she is so damned silent the whole time. It’s only when he grabs and enters her, that his own gasp gets echoed through her own throat, and he has his approval then, even if he’s entirely too far gone to stop if she had asked him to, right there and then.

It’s the little sounds she makes, the tension that grows in her muscles, and inside her, through which he knows (more or less subconsciously) how much she wants him, too. The moment his teeth sink into her, she’s maybe a bit too tense - he hardly notices, because she makes no disproving sound, and the shift of her body isn’t enough to let her out, let her go. Not until she trembles beneath him, not until she makes that small sound and seems to tighten and tense, does he stop or let go, and then all of a sudden they’re both done, and numb and shaking from the heights they reached.

She manages to speak while he’s still out of breath, and he simply pushes his nose to her shoulder. As if he wants to apologize for the damage or simply the fact that he can’t find enough breath to tell her all the things about her that he loves so much - the irregular spotted pattern, the mysterious ways she can just look at him and make him forget all that he was doing in the first place, melts his insides, and gets him so high just by her touch or the way she manages to surprise him with the small bites, or suddenly take his jokes and runs with it, sometimes taking his remarks serious, or simply turning them against him. There’s always a little something, that makes her different, and when she looks up at him like that, some kind of tiredness and satisfaction in the deep dark pools of her eyes, she knows exactly how to melt the ice out of his own eyes, and the fiery yellow and icy blue makes way for the warm brown of before - only briefly, for he’ll rather close his eyes and hug her, lean against her for support as he hardly keeps upright.

But she’s stubborn, and takes a step. I should, she says, and he manages a step to follow her. ”You shouldn’t,” he disagrees, and when she takes another step wraps his neck around her to prevent her from leaving. She’s still a little shaken, just like he, and he knows she won’t make it around the kingdom today, and he thinks she should trust the others - Castile, Rome, Ard - to keep the rest of the kingdom safe for a day. Scorch can meet whoever needs a diplomat - Breckin should really learn, or be told, to delegate her tasks more.

She settles finally, when she has tried and failed to move, saying she’s too much of a mess anyway. Fussing with her mane, he nods in the dark of the twilight-lit cave. ”Tomorrow,” he says to her, making it sound like a promise. He’s not quite sure if she’s heard it, or if she’s already asleep by then, as he holds her, fighting his own fatigue because he wants to make sure she gets her needed sleep, instead of slipping away and stubbornly try to do her kingdom duties anyway. Tomorrow they’ll wash up, and she can do whatever she feels she needs to catch up on. Waiting for her to fall to sleep like that, he whispers against he skin. ”I love you, daina.”