12-19-2016, 01:38 PM
Do something.
Zoryn
He stands there, in sort of a frozen state. But frozen is not a good word. He is burning. Blood is boiling, mind swirling and rationality is eaten up by the flames of this dark desire. So many feelings, many of them new, consuming him. Changing him. Making sense of it is utterly impossible. The intensity of it all reflects in his heated glare, never wavering from the other. Nothing else exists outside of them, the rest of the world be damned to be swallowed in the flames emanating from both of their souls. Intertwining, feeding. Rising.
What was, in reality, only a few short moments ago, those blackish eyes had gone from fear and concern, to determination, to.. this. Hot and dark. Dancing with the same heat that licks at him. Daring. Delicious. The obsidian colt steps toward him, gazes still locked, bringing that dark intensity closer. And closer still. Zor's breath hitches in his throat as the heat seems to rise all the more between them. His body tenses, the sweet pain in his breast still throbbing. He aches to move, act. Do something. Oh, please. Dark and wonderful urges take root and rapidly grow within him, stretching and encompassing.
But still, he stands, anticipation rising to titillating as the inky black moves in on him as Z had before. Glare washes away like the tide over his face, sinking into this intoxication. Really, there was no fighting it. Tingles shoot up and down his spine as the black nose presses to his golden neck. Eye contact is broken, so he presses his own muzzle to the bloody black shoulder. Inhales the musky scent mixed with copper. His doing. Oh, yes. His. Pink tongue darts out to taste once more, and he shudders on exhale. "Dovev," says he, and the name bores into Zoryn's mind. Burying into the depths of his memory for likely the entirety of his existence.
The fires burn. Hot. So hot. These gentle touches are not what he wants. Inwardly, he is aching, squirming for more. MORE.
And as they seem to be linked, bound together, he feels the movement of the black lips against his skin, the hot breath only a quick second before it comes. White-hot pain lances from the bite on his neck, and he tosses his head up. Mouth falls open as lids drift closed, savoring the feel of the pain spreading from his lingering teeth gripping down on sinew and skin. He registers the wet heat of Dovev's tongue, the rumbling groan from the other reverberating through Zoryn's chest. Hell, his soul. Slowly, the pain intensifies as Dov's jaw clamps harder, and harder. Stamping a hind hoof at the glorious pain, Z hisses and shudders, clenching his own jaw. "You are MINE," says the black. "Yes." A moan slid long and slow from his lips, along with another part of him that is now revealed, aching and seeking.
The claim evokes something in him, wild and hungry. Both instinctual and unnatural, but he doesn't give a damn. "And you are mine." He gives into the heady pleasure-pain, reaching around to sink his own teeth into the black fleshy neck, a mirrored lingering bite that turns into a trail of teeth and tongue along the bulging muscle leading to the shoulder. He groans as the hunger builds, tearing away from the other's bite and continuing his path of stinging nips to Dov's hindquarters. He stops when he is standing skin to skin, head to tail. Torn and blinded by hunger. He curls his neck over the ebon haunches, gaze seeking those burning pools of black. The claim with the bite wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He needs more. He needs to give more. Take more. "Yes, yours. Mine. Say it. Prove it." Wild with hunger, with anticipation, expectant, he stares and waits.
What was, in reality, only a few short moments ago, those blackish eyes had gone from fear and concern, to determination, to.. this. Hot and dark. Dancing with the same heat that licks at him. Daring. Delicious. The obsidian colt steps toward him, gazes still locked, bringing that dark intensity closer. And closer still. Zor's breath hitches in his throat as the heat seems to rise all the more between them. His body tenses, the sweet pain in his breast still throbbing. He aches to move, act. Do something. Oh, please. Dark and wonderful urges take root and rapidly grow within him, stretching and encompassing.
But still, he stands, anticipation rising to titillating as the inky black moves in on him as Z had before. Glare washes away like the tide over his face, sinking into this intoxication. Really, there was no fighting it. Tingles shoot up and down his spine as the black nose presses to his golden neck. Eye contact is broken, so he presses his own muzzle to the bloody black shoulder. Inhales the musky scent mixed with copper. His doing. Oh, yes. His. Pink tongue darts out to taste once more, and he shudders on exhale. "Dovev," says he, and the name bores into Zoryn's mind. Burying into the depths of his memory for likely the entirety of his existence.
The fires burn. Hot. So hot. These gentle touches are not what he wants. Inwardly, he is aching, squirming for more. MORE.
And as they seem to be linked, bound together, he feels the movement of the black lips against his skin, the hot breath only a quick second before it comes. White-hot pain lances from the bite on his neck, and he tosses his head up. Mouth falls open as lids drift closed, savoring the feel of the pain spreading from his lingering teeth gripping down on sinew and skin. He registers the wet heat of Dovev's tongue, the rumbling groan from the other reverberating through Zoryn's chest. Hell, his soul. Slowly, the pain intensifies as Dov's jaw clamps harder, and harder. Stamping a hind hoof at the glorious pain, Z hisses and shudders, clenching his own jaw. "You are MINE," says the black. "Yes." A moan slid long and slow from his lips, along with another part of him that is now revealed, aching and seeking.
The claim evokes something in him, wild and hungry. Both instinctual and unnatural, but he doesn't give a damn. "And you are mine." He gives into the heady pleasure-pain, reaching around to sink his own teeth into the black fleshy neck, a mirrored lingering bite that turns into a trail of teeth and tongue along the bulging muscle leading to the shoulder. He groans as the hunger builds, tearing away from the other's bite and continuing his path of stinging nips to Dov's hindquarters. He stops when he is standing skin to skin, head to tail. Torn and blinded by hunger. He curls his neck over the ebon haunches, gaze seeking those burning pools of black. The claim with the bite wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He needs more. He needs to give more. Take more. "Yes, yours. Mine. Say it. Prove it." Wild with hunger, with anticipation, expectant, he stares and waits.