07-08-2018, 03:08 PM
 I V A R promising everything i do not mean |
He spread wings adds a further layer of darkness to the shadows cast by their bodies in the shallow sea. Ivar noses against the navy feathers, finding they are as soft as he remembers, downy and silken here at the joint of her shoulder. His curious lips rove across her withers then, toy with the strands of her navy mane until the lay more smoothly along her neck. The warmth of physical satisfaction gives a languidity to his actions that has been rather absent of late. Even her questions, unnecessary chatter in their afterglow, do not stir even a flicker of irritation. “Yes, you can.” He replies as he presses his muzzle to the still fresh spill of red down her golden neck. She flinches away at the contact and Ivar grins, delighting in the way she holds him so firmly with her arching wing. The kelpie can’t recall telling Heda much of Isobell, but he imagines two monarchs running off with each other would not have been especially minor gossip. There is not use telling Heda that what he found in Isobell he will never find in her, and that the same is also true in the other direction. “You’ll be happy,” he adds, rather than tell her: No, Isobell has vanished, pregnant with his twins and taking their son along with her. “Ischia is beautiful, and there are other mares there to keep you company.” He’s not ever told Kylin much about Heda, but he imagines the two of them might get along well. There’s the small issue of possession they each feel over the piebald kelpie, but Ivar suspects that if they’re distracted by raising his children they won’t be able to get up to too much trouble. “Don’t I make you happy?” he asks, pressing into her the hypnotic command to relieve her most recent climax in exquisite detail as he nibbles gently at the curve of her smooth jaw. |
I know my lies could not make you believe in my dark times, baby this is all I could be . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . |