06-19-2015, 04:03 PM
If he had been a lesser man, the vision of her standing amongst the falling snow, head raised towards the pale gray sky, beautiful eyes closed in bliss might have brought him to his knees. The desire hits him hard, a sucker punch to his gut, making him ache. His dark eyes trail the fine bones of her face, drinking in the sight of her frost-rimmed eyes, catching on the wind-tossed feather, stroking along the sleek line of neck before coming back to hold her gaze. He yearns to follow that same path with his muzzle, to make the visual touch physical. But he does not. Not yet anyway. He cannot say why he feels it so strongly, but this woman deserves so much more than just a roll in the hay.
Her next words call him back to the present. He finds he does not wish her to leave, though he knows she must go. She no doubt has duties awaiting her, just as he does. But that does not stop him from wishing it might be different, that he might spirit her away to a place where they could forget the world, for a little while at least. But he cannot. She is a ray of sunshine filtering through ones fingers, warm and real but impossible to grasp, to hold on to.
That does not stop the suggestive grin from tugging at his lips when she speaks her next words. He would let her go, for now. But he would do his very best to draw her back. To leave her anticipating the next time they might meet. He steps close, his lips trailing up her neck, a breath away, not quite touching her downy soft coat, until he can once again whisper his words into her ear.
There is so much I could show you.
With that he steps away, leaving her tempting warmth. A knowing smile gives his lips a slight curve. He has no doubt he will see her again, even if he has to search her out himself.
Her next words call him back to the present. He finds he does not wish her to leave, though he knows she must go. She no doubt has duties awaiting her, just as he does. But that does not stop him from wishing it might be different, that he might spirit her away to a place where they could forget the world, for a little while at least. But he cannot. She is a ray of sunshine filtering through ones fingers, warm and real but impossible to grasp, to hold on to.
That does not stop the suggestive grin from tugging at his lips when she speaks her next words. He would let her go, for now. But he would do his very best to draw her back. To leave her anticipating the next time they might meet. He steps close, his lips trailing up her neck, a breath away, not quite touching her downy soft coat, until he can once again whisper his words into her ear.
There is so much I could show you.
With that he steps away, leaving her tempting warmth. A knowing smile gives his lips a slight curve. He has no doubt he will see her again, even if he has to search her out himself.
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane