N y x a
The whisper of a growl Hod breathes into her ear locks her knees into place. Nyxa trembles, but not from fear. Her head is still a bit fuzzy around the edges so she’s quick to use that as an excuse; all the same she can’t deny what he so obviously does to her, without even trying.
A swift kiss settles her unruly emotions, the laughable taunt that he’s become the ‘bear’ and she the ‘wolf’ enough to spark her own playful response. “Just wait until I do, you smelly honey-hunter!” The filly squeals, quick to dart after his retreating form as they dance and weave along the short, sandy bank. Her mouth reaches out for him without any intention of actually touching, the faint snap snap of her teeth clicking together on open air enough to mimic the habits of a predator chasing her prey.
He wheels, rocks back onto white-splashed legs, and rises to beat a tattoo against the sky while she watches with appreciative, adoring eyes. Hod lands and his proximity is close enough that the action leaves her speckled with water; the coolness against her legs is as close to orgasmic as anything she can fathom. He won’t have to prod or push, though his invitation to join is met with her initial hesitation. Nyxa knows that once she sumberges, she’ll lose herself to the water’s embrace.
But Hod is urging, and Nyxa is more than willing.
--
They lose themselves to each other, forgetting that an outside world exists. Ischia, in this moment, has become her paradise. Eventually she does succumb to the depths, her curiosity overwhelming her need to ensure Hod’s comfort. The water filly stays there for a bit longer than she intended, (So many creatures hidden beneath the sunken stones!) and she surfaces once more to the sight of him presenting her a gift.
Bayleaf.
It means nothing and yet everything to her all at once. They spend the late hours drying stiff coats and she hardly protests sinking into the sand beside him once her newfound pool has been explored to its fullest extent. The affectionate tug of his teeth against her knotted mane serves to rock the girl into quiet peace. “We’re not pack.” She thinks sleepily, regardless of what she’d said earlier. This island - her heart - they have no room and no need for a wolf any longer. Instead, she thinks, “He’s the clam and I’m the pearl, we’re two angelfish. We belong together.”
And perhaps, somewhere deep down, the Island hears this declaration as she drifts to sleep beside him.
Every kiss is a door, Can I knock on yours?
@[Hod] I had to reply <3