[private] i feel a bad moon rising - karaugh

[Ivar]

I V A R i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take Her back dips beneath his touch, a promise of the way she’ll curve under him, and a low hum of pleasure reverberates deep in his chest. Karaugh is no naïve girl when it comes to pleasures of the flesh, and her delight in showing him as much is a heady addition to evening. The mare’s reaction to the pressure at his bite is to take the offense, but Ivar feels only a pinch on his leg – his scales are far more difficult to puncture than her tender hide. An increase in her heartbeat brings a slow smile to his mouth, and a deeper urgency to the way he holds her. Using his height to his advantage, he straightens his neck with his jaws still tight, wanting to feel her all-but-dangle in his grip. He is not disappointed, and the tight flex of her muscles has blood in his mouth even sooner than he’d anticipated. It is thick, coppery, and sweet. It is smeared against her golden throat as she speaks again, when he pulls away to meet her dark gaze with his own. “In a hurry?” He murmurs, but the condescension in his tone is untrue. She wants him – that much has been certain since the moment she’d eyed him up and down in Loess – and there is no denying that he wants the very same. With enticing slowness, he makes his way down the dipped curve of her back, pressing kisses and nips down the entire golden length. He is not predictable with when one or the other will come, and while most of the nips are more of a pinch, he rounds her rump with a solid bite. This one is harder than those before, a genuine attempt to sink his teeth into her flesh. It’s the type of bite he’d meant to pepper her entire pelt with, to leave her battered and bleeding out on the forest floor. That had been his goal with many bites, though. This is just a single bite, an unexpected burst of pain that he hopes will make her do more than simply hiss her dissatisfaction. Ivar wants her to move, to jump away, because he intends to catch her. To catch her, bring her back, and hold her steady. He does so, because that is his true skill, and it is easy to mount her, to fit his forelegs around the sleek curve of her hips. They both want this, but Ivar is not yet finished playing. With his weight atop her he does not act, instead breathes a quiet: “What do you want, Karaugh?” kelpie mimicry | dragon scales | tactile hypnosis