03-23-2016, 12:17 AM
when you fall I'll be the only one who looks away;
when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
when you call I'll be the first to tell you I can't stay.
He cannot get enough of her gentle touch and her warm breath on his skin; he has felt absent of warmth for days now and it felt undeniably addictive to draw her close to him - to feel her every fiber stirring within. Caressing her skin with his own, he breathes a deep, elongated sigh that reaches to the very deepest inlets of his lungs, as if he had been holding his breath for the entirety of their time apart. His icy breath brushes over her skin, which he finds to be frosty to the touch - while he may have a bite to his touch, he is still warmth and comfort and he drapes himself so very close to her to provide her with what he has to offer.
The way she murmurs his name causes his heart to swell twice its size within the tight confines of his heart, and for a moment, he closes his eyes and allows himself to fall into the lull of her adoring embrace. There is nothing that can come close to this emotion that ebbs and flows, overwhelming the stoic stallion and washing away his every insecurity and shred of doubt with each lingering wave of her affection. He loses himself in it for a moment, savoring the way her heart pounds and thumps raggedly against his chest and the way that she curls into him with such flawless perfection that he is certain that somehow, in spite of the many years and miles that have separated them, they must have been created of the same mold.
Soon, she parts from him, but he does not protest - he, too, wants to see her gleaming eyes as they shine in the beautiful pale sunlight of morning. The hefty ice wall that lay behind him gleams, too, with gentle shards of ice reflecting the brilliant light of the rising sun, causing flickers of orange and yellow and pink to litter their skin and taint the plain below their hooves. He decides he has never seen anything more breathtaking than her bathing in the illumination of dawn, his deep crimson eyes taking in the very sight of her, pristine and fragile and irrefutably stunning. She pauses to admire his new mark, which he at times forgets is present. A deep, rolling chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest.
"It is a long story, but I am altogether unsure myself. The ruins that lie within the walls of this kingdom are equipped with a deep source of magic all their own, and upon entering the Brotherhood, we men surrender to our inner demons and relinquish our skin to its marking. It does not hurt - not afterwards, at least," He muses, recalling the searing pain of festering, open wounds that had vanished the moment he stepped out of the infamously dangerous cave opening. His skin still bristled from the memory, yet there had been little harm done. "and it symbolizes my unity with the others."
His lips continue their descent along her cheek and jawline, his cheek pressed against her neck as he nears her again. He breathes in her scent, allowing it to wash over him and lace its way through his memory, permanently becoming a piece of him as well. He cannot imagine anything sweeter, and yet her kisses never cease to astound him. She chastises him gently for his confession, but he too laughs with her as his neck drapes around hers, his whiskered lips pressed to her skin again. She melts into his embrace, and he is again content to hold her until dust and then dawn again.
Her quiet whisper draws out his rugged, scratchy voice again, which rumbles softly over the sound of the whistling wind as it whips through the passage. "I will spend every evening telling you of all the ways I cannot get enough of you and all of the reasons why." He promises gently, but amusement is soon evident on his otherwise set, stoic features. His lips curve into a simper as she steps away from him, peering through the slim passage that leads to the wide, brilliantly open flatland of the icy tundra. She utters doubt and uncertainty about her presence in such a land, wary of acceptance and anxious with woe. He follows her, his hefty stature settling beside her - side by side - as he lips affectionately at her dark tresses, with icy snowflakes tangled amidst her locks.
"I have never been more certain of anything, Isle." He pauses, his smile changing into a smirk as he studies her worrisome expression. "You see, you couldn't be more right in saying much has changed in a few days. I gained more than a mark of Brotherhood upon my return - I also gained the throne. I am now the King of these lands, and you have never been more welcome. My men will accept you, as I already have."
The way she murmurs his name causes his heart to swell twice its size within the tight confines of his heart, and for a moment, he closes his eyes and allows himself to fall into the lull of her adoring embrace. There is nothing that can come close to this emotion that ebbs and flows, overwhelming the stoic stallion and washing away his every insecurity and shred of doubt with each lingering wave of her affection. He loses himself in it for a moment, savoring the way her heart pounds and thumps raggedly against his chest and the way that she curls into him with such flawless perfection that he is certain that somehow, in spite of the many years and miles that have separated them, they must have been created of the same mold.
Soon, she parts from him, but he does not protest - he, too, wants to see her gleaming eyes as they shine in the beautiful pale sunlight of morning. The hefty ice wall that lay behind him gleams, too, with gentle shards of ice reflecting the brilliant light of the rising sun, causing flickers of orange and yellow and pink to litter their skin and taint the plain below their hooves. He decides he has never seen anything more breathtaking than her bathing in the illumination of dawn, his deep crimson eyes taking in the very sight of her, pristine and fragile and irrefutably stunning. She pauses to admire his new mark, which he at times forgets is present. A deep, rolling chuckle rumbles from the depths of his chest.
"It is a long story, but I am altogether unsure myself. The ruins that lie within the walls of this kingdom are equipped with a deep source of magic all their own, and upon entering the Brotherhood, we men surrender to our inner demons and relinquish our skin to its marking. It does not hurt - not afterwards, at least," He muses, recalling the searing pain of festering, open wounds that had vanished the moment he stepped out of the infamously dangerous cave opening. His skin still bristled from the memory, yet there had been little harm done. "and it symbolizes my unity with the others."
His lips continue their descent along her cheek and jawline, his cheek pressed against her neck as he nears her again. He breathes in her scent, allowing it to wash over him and lace its way through his memory, permanently becoming a piece of him as well. He cannot imagine anything sweeter, and yet her kisses never cease to astound him. She chastises him gently for his confession, but he too laughs with her as his neck drapes around hers, his whiskered lips pressed to her skin again. She melts into his embrace, and he is again content to hold her until dust and then dawn again.
Her quiet whisper draws out his rugged, scratchy voice again, which rumbles softly over the sound of the whistling wind as it whips through the passage. "I will spend every evening telling you of all the ways I cannot get enough of you and all of the reasons why." He promises gently, but amusement is soon evident on his otherwise set, stoic features. His lips curve into a simper as she steps away from him, peering through the slim passage that leads to the wide, brilliantly open flatland of the icy tundra. She utters doubt and uncertainty about her presence in such a land, wary of acceptance and anxious with woe. He follows her, his hefty stature settling beside her - side by side - as he lips affectionately at her dark tresses, with icy snowflakes tangled amidst her locks.
"I have never been more certain of anything, Isle." He pauses, his smile changing into a smirk as he studies her worrisome expression. "You see, you couldn't be more right in saying much has changed in a few days. I gained more than a mark of Brotherhood upon my return - I also gained the throne. I am now the King of these lands, and you have never been more welcome. My men will accept you, as I already have."
the ice king of the tundra
OFFSPRING