12-19-2017, 12:58 AM
Eione
I can save you, I can take you away from here
”And I feel as if I have always known you,” she murmurs softly, as if it were a secret to be kept from the prying eyes of the starlight casting an ethereal sheen over the still water, or the rising moon, swathing each in a splendor of light. The soft and gentle confession is barely past her parted lips before his desire is made known to her, freely flowing into her mind and enveloping her in a warmth that traverses the curve of her neck, the slope of her spine and between her legs – knowing, without words, that his desire is growing for her as her own is for him.
She is not knowledgeable of the entanglement that so often comes with the changing of the season – with the intimacy shared beneath a fading sun; with the changing leaves and waning temperature as summer gives way to autumn. She does not intimately know the weight or kiss of another pressing urgently onto the nape of her neck; but she is no fool and she is far from naïve. She does not need to see or know anything more than the way his lashes flutter over the deep amber of his gaze when her lips brush just so, nor feel anything but the way he writhes beneath the gentlest kiss. She is only aware that each caress and soft touch is bringing him closer to her, that the most tempting kiss lures out the dark edge of his voice to the surface.
Her mind is elsewhere, giving into the pull of her own imagination, while the dark scarlet of her gaze traces each glistening, golden scale beneath her parted lips – but his voice causes her reverie to crumble, and she is staring blankly, blinking slowly. If only he could read her mind – it would surely give color to the broad curve of his cheek. A smile, coy but warm, crosses the corner of her lips, while her softly spoken words are murmured against his hip.
The invitation for her to delve deeper, to see what he has seen and to feel what he has felt is on the tip of his tongue – and she can sense his hesitance; she can feel the hum of worry hidden within his tone but she would do nothing to hurt the dragon-born enigma standing before her. She does not carry any ill will; only wonderment. She does not seek to know the darkness hiding in his heart; only yearning to carry the burden for him.
Just then, her kiss is tucked in the crook of his thigh, and she can feel him stir with longing.
Do you trust me?
”I do,” she muses simply, seeing no malevolence hiding in his mind, nor his heart. She would follow him to whatever end; she held no fear – no trepidation. The promise of immersing herself in his memory, in the fervent heat of his thoughts, in the raw emotion of his insecurity and worry is too much to resist. ”I trust you, Amet,” she murmurs again, as her teeth nip gently across the shadow of his hip, following him through the dense copse of trees with brittle foliage draping across the length of her body and entangling in the tousled tresses across her neck.
When she has finally shaken an errant maple leaf away from her vision, a soft gasp emerges from her lips, and her gaze searches the distant horizon – and the display of Hyaline that lay before; vivid, vibrant, and breathtaking. She is quiet for a long moment, content to stand beside him, to revel in the beauty of what lay before her – but soon she is no longer looking at the tranquil water, nor the wisteria branches drifting in the wayward breeze, carrying lavender petals across the crystalline lake. She is watching him, tracing the curve of his jaw, the richness of his gaze, and her shoulder is pressed against his.
He is slender, tall and defined with toned muscle, while she is smaller – lithe and slim, but with the heavy curve of her draft heritage, filling out along the flair of her hip and the thickness of her thighs. Even so, pressed against him, each curve filling into her own while her lips gently press against the thrum of his humming pulse at the crook of his neck, she still cannot shake the desire stirring in her belly, nor the thought that she had known him for an eternity.
That she had known him for all of time, and only just found him again in this lifetime, in this existence.
”Do you trust me?” she breathes, wide and curious eyes searching his.
She is not knowledgeable of the entanglement that so often comes with the changing of the season – with the intimacy shared beneath a fading sun; with the changing leaves and waning temperature as summer gives way to autumn. She does not intimately know the weight or kiss of another pressing urgently onto the nape of her neck; but she is no fool and she is far from naïve. She does not need to see or know anything more than the way his lashes flutter over the deep amber of his gaze when her lips brush just so, nor feel anything but the way he writhes beneath the gentlest kiss. She is only aware that each caress and soft touch is bringing him closer to her, that the most tempting kiss lures out the dark edge of his voice to the surface.
Her mind is elsewhere, giving into the pull of her own imagination, while the dark scarlet of her gaze traces each glistening, golden scale beneath her parted lips – but his voice causes her reverie to crumble, and she is staring blankly, blinking slowly. If only he could read her mind – it would surely give color to the broad curve of his cheek. A smile, coy but warm, crosses the corner of her lips, while her softly spoken words are murmured against his hip.
The invitation for her to delve deeper, to see what he has seen and to feel what he has felt is on the tip of his tongue – and she can sense his hesitance; she can feel the hum of worry hidden within his tone but she would do nothing to hurt the dragon-born enigma standing before her. She does not carry any ill will; only wonderment. She does not seek to know the darkness hiding in his heart; only yearning to carry the burden for him.
Just then, her kiss is tucked in the crook of his thigh, and she can feel him stir with longing.
Do you trust me?
”I do,” she muses simply, seeing no malevolence hiding in his mind, nor his heart. She would follow him to whatever end; she held no fear – no trepidation. The promise of immersing herself in his memory, in the fervent heat of his thoughts, in the raw emotion of his insecurity and worry is too much to resist. ”I trust you, Amet,” she murmurs again, as her teeth nip gently across the shadow of his hip, following him through the dense copse of trees with brittle foliage draping across the length of her body and entangling in the tousled tresses across her neck.
When she has finally shaken an errant maple leaf away from her vision, a soft gasp emerges from her lips, and her gaze searches the distant horizon – and the display of Hyaline that lay before; vivid, vibrant, and breathtaking. She is quiet for a long moment, content to stand beside him, to revel in the beauty of what lay before her – but soon she is no longer looking at the tranquil water, nor the wisteria branches drifting in the wayward breeze, carrying lavender petals across the crystalline lake. She is watching him, tracing the curve of his jaw, the richness of his gaze, and her shoulder is pressed against his.
He is slender, tall and defined with toned muscle, while she is smaller – lithe and slim, but with the heavy curve of her draft heritage, filling out along the flair of her hip and the thickness of her thighs. Even so, pressed against him, each curve filling into her own while her lips gently press against the thrum of his humming pulse at the crook of his neck, she still cannot shake the desire stirring in her belly, nor the thought that she had known him for an eternity.
That she had known him for all of time, and only just found him again in this lifetime, in this existence.
”Do you trust me?” she breathes, wide and curious eyes searching his.
@[Amet]