[mature] as though we were drowning inside our hearts; bardot

[Bardot]

Bardot

I know what sin is

She had always been bright and beautiful but had been born traitless, free from the adornments of horn and flowers she wears now. A Khaleesi princess, loved by her parents (as much as they could love her while hating each other), and privileged in many ways that others were not. She has always known that and perhaps if the true jungle hadn’t been swept away in the Reckoning, she would have felt settled in her own skin for years to come. However, the loss of the Amazons had forced her on paths she hadn’t expected, had made her see that not everyone saw the world as gray as she did. It had been a long time since she had felt as if she belonged somewhere, anywhere, and even though she calls Taiga home for now, she doesn’t feel that same sense of place and self that she had felt those many years ago amongst vine and dappled sunlight. She's never truly felt at peace. But here amongst the darkness, where that same light filters dimly from the thick canopy above, wrapped around his dark desires and mirroring them with her own…. This is a new feeling, a new sense of being wanted and belonging. She is no longer coy in her desire, letting the flush of it warm her face and linger in the gold of her eyes as they meet his slated gaze and sees, with a thrill of delight, the same hunger looking back at her. She knows that he is the kind of stallion most would warn her away from. She had known it the moment she had laid eyes on him that he could be dangerous, was dangerous. That he had probably done terrible things that she couldn’t even put into words. And yet… She can’t help but be pulled in by him, figuratively and physically. Can’t help but see something more in the man, in the monster. It’s there in each vicious kiss he gives her, each bite that leaves dark marks along her pale skin. Beneath each rough touch is a hint of the stallion she had seen who had taken the brunt of the river for her, that part of him that kept giving her reasons to leave. He is rough and greedy and she doesn’t mind, only wants more, as her back arches where his lips find her spine. Aches for more as he coaxes small noises from her that she wasn’t aware she could even make. He is determined to deflower her in every possible sense of the word as he rips a bloom from her tail and chews on it, circling around her as she suddenly tenses with a rush of nerves. They’ve come to a point of no return and she had known this was coming, known it when she had first spotted his inky figure highlighted against the sun (and wanted it, wanted him). She had recognized him for exactly what he was and had never thought him as anything as mild and merciful. Still, as he voices his plan to her, she can’t help the tremble that crawls beneath her skin and runs rampant down the length of her body. Part of it is a delicious shiver of anticipation (“little unicorn”, he calls her again and finds she will never get sick of hearing it) as the flutter of her wanting matches the sudden fire burning between her thighs. The rest of it is anxious nerves, of crossing into territory that’s new for her. And that promise from him that he would not be gentle. So she pauses before turning her head and angling her skull so that she might see him better behind her and that he might see the defiance in her eyes despite the unwilling confession that spills from her lips. “You are my first.” Would he see that as a weakness? A challenge? Would he try to break her as her father had once done to her mother? She smiles at him but there is a hint of uncertainty behind her confidence, even as she slowly flags her tail and allows him to understand just how real her hunger for him was. She could have chosen someone soft for her first time, someone kind who would whisper into her ear how beautiful she was and place kisses on her forehead. She could have chosen someone gentle. And yet she had chosen him, a creature of shadow and mystery, whose very presence screamed of dark and terrible things. Things that she finds she craves as his mouth hungrily devours velvety trails of her skin. Even if she was a fool to trust him with her body, one flick back of her head would send that horn of hers into an eye, preferably, if he took it too far. “Show me what I’ve been missing.” She whispers softly as her heightened anticipation meets with the violent need of her lust that she can’t seem to keep from the breathy tone of her voice.

They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;

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