06-17-2018, 10:02 PM
 I V A R promising everything i do not mean |
The sunlight glitters off the water around them, casting dozens of refractions that glitter and dance across their skin. The water darkens Kylin's lavender coat and brightens the white of her markings, and Ivar reaches out to touch her as she passes him by. His white lips press against the rise of her withers, where her skin is warmed by the midday sun and flavored with the salt water that splashes up around them. Ivar does not bite down, but he does grin devilishly at her offended gaze and her buck, clearly unperturbed by her reaction to his earlier nip. He snaps playfully at her tail when she flicks it at his shoulder, catching a few of the lavender strands between his teeth but letting them slide away. Ivar could have asked, but he has never been the type of creature to request permission. He would rather see how far he could press Kylin, how far he can take her from the sweet and quiet creature he knows so well. She might feel a great many things while they are out in the water, but none of them will be sadness. Her hazel eyes narrow, but Ivar knows her well enough to read the quirk in her lip that suggests she is only moments away from a smile. When she replies, it is not with a real answer, yet Ivar finds that he doesn't really mind. Instead, he watches the water climb higher along her sides as she wades deeper into the sea. The waves close over her back, and Ivar feels his breath catch in his throat as the fins at her sides flare out in the current. (mine.) A moment ago, the kelpie had half a mind to drown her just to see what would happen, but when their eyes meet with her wordless challenge, those thoughts disappear. (catch her. take her. mine.) The need that swells within him is unexpected, but he does not hesitate. For all his conquests, this is something new, and it takes only a few flicks of his dark tail to close the space she’s put between them. The buoyancy of the water makes it all too easy to float above her, to wrap his forelegs around her shoulders. She needs to stay above the water, he knows in some subconscious part of his mind, but she is so warm beneath him, even in the tropical sea. “This is what I had in mind,” He tells Kylin between kisses to the side of her neck. They are more tooth than lip, growing more insistent as his desire rises unmistakably behind her. She’d give herself to him (Ivar knows a willing woman when he sees one), but the kelpie wants more than sex. The heat of her blood simmers just beneath the surface of her fragile neck, and the need to see it merge with the seawater all but clouds his vision. He wants to fuck her and kill her and make her his mate all at once, to drive into her and tear her apart and tend to her wounds. Without that damn promise he could have them all so easily, could shield her from the pain and the fear and give her only the pleasure and the feel of Ivar and the sea, could take away the memory of it all if she fought him or regretted it. There is a millisecond of indecision, and then in a single motion he drives himself into her and bites down - hard but not deadly - into the side of her flawless neck. Bloody and shallow, a mark that is unmistakable to the kelpie as an indicator of possession and protection. If he cannot hypnotize her, he will take what he wants as gently as possible. (mine. mine. mate.) Better to ask forgiveness than permission. |
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |