Assailant
As she struggles against the thorns that give her reasons to hesitate, so he considers his own. Prior to that night in the Dale, he had been presumptuous in believing himself a wholly changed man. Yes, he has made considerable progress in accepting and adjusting to the unfamiliar expectations of the modern world, but he sees now that antiquated beliefs still linger beneath the surface.
Ultimately, he had let his anger simmer and threaten to boil over because he expected her to blindly and thoroughly submit to his will, though he had not given her any substantial reason to lay her faith in his hands. As in the past, he had expected compliance and devotion simply for being present, for giving her the time of day. And if that were not enough, he had even considered reverting to promiscuity as punishment for her fears.
He is a fool and now that he sees this, he vows to be more mindful of how he behaves, of how he speaks, and especially of how he reacts. He cannot afford to feed the roots of her insecurities, to let their thorns grow long enough to drive them apart again. But he knows that means he will have to whittle away at his own pride, and he also knows that will not be so easily accomplished.
But for her, he will try, so he says the words that allow her to see his heart, to snatch it from his chest and do as she pleases with it.
He relishes the comfort he finds even in the sound of her soft sigh, delights in the slow burn of noticing that she seems to crave his touch as much as he does hers. Then, she reveals the purity that she’s been masking with her coquetry and a low hiss of carnal greed rises in his throat as he realizes that he will be the first and the only one to have her. Though he seems patient in laying his kisses along her frosted flesh, the ancient creature that has always been coiled deep within him unfurls at long last. It claws at its bindings, howls for him to feed the hunger that has been gnawing at his belly, but he finds the strength to ignore the call, wanting to light up her every nerve, to know that she is utterly consumed by the scorching flames of lust that have already burned their way through him.
But then she backs into him, and in the sharpness of her gasp, he can hear the thick ice of her inhibitions cracking beneath the weight of their combined desire, just as he feels the frost of her scales melting in the heat of his breath. His touch instantly becomes more fevered, more urgent, as his mouth slips lower on her skin. His lips, his teeth, and his tongue are suddenly everywhere, memorizing the taste and feel of her as she shivers for him. In this moment, he discovers that he could spend the rest of eternity worshiping the curves he has long admired and still, he would feel as though he could never have enough of her.
The creature in him purrs in anticipation as he continues to lavish her flesh with his lascivious intentions, but when she gives her consent, it roars in triumph and his senses go hazy. He nips at the inside of her thighs, tugs at the strands of her tail a few times, then pushes his chest against her once more. He can feel the heat that radiates from her, and though he is grateful for the change from the hesitant coolness that he is used to, he does not let it distract him from completing the fluid motion of sliding his body over hers.
It has been a terribly long time since he last held a woman this way, but the instinct is still there as he seizes her withers with his teeth, using the grip to help settle into position. He then releases his hold, using his mouth to trace the underside of her jaw. His eyes close as he skims up the side of her face to breathe a husky whisper into her ear. “This,” he pauses to pull her closer, to press the evidence of his desire against her before he continues, “is only the first of the many ways I intend to prove just how much I love you..” He trails off into a groan as his hips surge forward to claim her body.
It had seemed natural and correct to stand with her wrapped protectively in his wing, but that pales in comparison to having her beneath him like this, so he takes his time to savor the feeling, to brand it permanently into his memory. Eventually though, fire sparks to life in his belly again and he begins to move, slowly at first, but gradually descending into a demanding rhythm that sends his teeth scraping needily at her shoulder. As he feels himself approaching the heights of their passion, he murmurs her name into her skin, begging her to spiral into that sweet oblivion with him.
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
--Martin Buber
@Adriana