10-23-2018, 03:32 PM
His breaths are as shallow as hers, even if not dampened by a weight such as his own - quickened by the pace of his heart, too excited by how she responds, or more accurately, how she lacks to respond to his restraining movements, and just lets him do it. Stilled, perhaps, or surprised. She doesn't seem shocked though. That's good. Shocked might mean fear, and he doesn't want to make her afraid if he can help it.
He lingers with his head behind her neck and her mane still grasped in his mouth, grinning at nothing in particular because she can't see it (better not, he probably looks like the idiot he is) - good thing they're alone. And in the dark. And pretty far away from the world - shut up about the world, head. The only sound they make now are their hushed words, and the waves crashing against the rocks, outside. He's about to let go when she finds a way to force out a few words.
Don't let me go.
It's more of a question than a demand, and perhaps she hadn't meant for it to sound that way. And it might have the opposite effect of what she means in this moment, because his head is more clear than ever, compared to every time he's this close to her. He feels his jaw loosen, and fall open to do just that, let her go -literally-, shuffling his weight across her back, towards her hindquarters so she can breathe, then slides sideways off her back, landing with a dull thud. Had she wanted to use this for another escape, she could have simply bucked and run; she doesn't seem to want to do that.
No matter how much he liked being on top of her (ahem), he can stall a moment, because what he wants to tell her is more important.
Sliding in besides her, skin to skin -small exception for the place where she seems to have dragged open her hide against the rock-, his nose trails the line of her shoulder and neck, coming to a still behind her ear, where he leans his head against her neck for a while. Choosing his next words carefully, then going with just two.
"Never again." He confirms that softly, then nips at her ear with his lips, remembering the day that he did. This time though, he shakes his head, and leans into her - so close he never would have dreamed she would allow him to, back then. He's almost absent-minded in his movements, trailing across her skin, and yet, he is certain about it: he can't stop touching her after all. And if he could, he'd crawl into her skin and be whole, be one, be home.
He slides his neck across hers like he's done before, unwilling to let her go, though this time he makes sure not to crush her. Can he just keep the moment, and stay in it forever? Hmm, probably not. Worth a try, though. Can he try? He muses over these thoughts, his eyes tracing over her body in the futile attempt to memorize all of it. Memory will never do her justice. He knows that. Has learned that. And he knows he's being selfish for wanting to keep her here forever (impractical too), but he can't find it in himself to care, and he can't find it in himself to stop wanting to touch her everywhere at once, and having to settle with this, turning his head over her back and neck to place a kiss at a random spot, or a nip at irregular places (not that irregular - she has dots in those places but she probably doesn't know that).
@[Breckin]
He lingers with his head behind her neck and her mane still grasped in his mouth, grinning at nothing in particular because she can't see it (better not, he probably looks like the idiot he is) - good thing they're alone. And in the dark. And pretty far away from the world - shut up about the world, head. The only sound they make now are their hushed words, and the waves crashing against the rocks, outside. He's about to let go when she finds a way to force out a few words.
Don't let me go.
It's more of a question than a demand, and perhaps she hadn't meant for it to sound that way. And it might have the opposite effect of what she means in this moment, because his head is more clear than ever, compared to every time he's this close to her. He feels his jaw loosen, and fall open to do just that, let her go -literally-, shuffling his weight across her back, towards her hindquarters so she can breathe, then slides sideways off her back, landing with a dull thud. Had she wanted to use this for another escape, she could have simply bucked and run; she doesn't seem to want to do that.
No matter how much he liked being on top of her (ahem), he can stall a moment, because what he wants to tell her is more important.
Sliding in besides her, skin to skin -small exception for the place where she seems to have dragged open her hide against the rock-, his nose trails the line of her shoulder and neck, coming to a still behind her ear, where he leans his head against her neck for a while. Choosing his next words carefully, then going with just two.
"Never again." He confirms that softly, then nips at her ear with his lips, remembering the day that he did. This time though, he shakes his head, and leans into her - so close he never would have dreamed she would allow him to, back then. He's almost absent-minded in his movements, trailing across her skin, and yet, he is certain about it: he can't stop touching her after all. And if he could, he'd crawl into her skin and be whole, be one, be home.
He slides his neck across hers like he's done before, unwilling to let her go, though this time he makes sure not to crush her. Can he just keep the moment, and stay in it forever? Hmm, probably not. Worth a try, though. Can he try? He muses over these thoughts, his eyes tracing over her body in the futile attempt to memorize all of it. Memory will never do her justice. He knows that. Has learned that. And he knows he's being selfish for wanting to keep her here forever (impractical too), but he can't find it in himself to care, and he can't find it in himself to stop wanting to touch her everywhere at once, and having to settle with this, turning his head over her back and neck to place a kiss at a random spot, or a nip at irregular places (not that irregular - she has dots in those places but she probably doesn't know that).
@[Breckin]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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