11-12-2019, 05:40 PM
----------------kiss me until i can't speak
Distance from the sea had pulled away her scales and fins, Pteron assumes, a sure sign that the nereid is far from her natural habitat. A tropical creature in a snowy forest, she is out of place. Her features seem clearer in Taiga, Pteron has noticed as he kissed his way along them. Less perfection, and yet more Aquaria. At the thought he presses another kiss to her jaw, fixing the feel of it in his mind even as he pulls away to watch her from a distance.
A nightingale, she calls him, and Pteron tilts his head in strikingly realistic imitation of a bird, just as she calls him beautiful. He’d preen, if she hadn’t brought up the addendum and some of his bright laughter softens as she considers. It might be feigned, but Pteron waits exactly as he would if it were real; this is not something for her to rush. He knows he wants her agreement, of course, and though he does think of kissing her till she was breathless and agreeing, he does not dare. There will be no regrets, not for Aquaria. He won’t let that happen.
I want you to show me everything, she says, and if Pteron’s mouth were dry before it has now become Pangea.
Share every touch, she croons, and Pteron halves the distance between them.
Every moan of pleasure, she adds, and Pteron is a moment from embracing her when she adds:
But…
He is still, perhaps not as still as he might be if she sounded less like she were teasing him. He’d wanted her to know he was serious, and here she is accusing him wanting to eat grass. Well, of course he wants to eat his grass. Why bother having it if he cannot eat it? By the time he puts together that she is speaking of children, she has already fallen quiet. Her amethyst eyes pin his wings like crystal spears, and the silent worry in them is so sweet that he feels an ache. Aquaria, who he considers his merriest friend, a carefree girl from a carefree world. Aquaria worried about consequences.
“Oh little fish,” Pteron breathes into the soft wave of her hair, having moved close the moment he realized her single concern is so easily overcome. “I don’t know how you do things in the water, but that is not a year-round concern here on land.” He does not mean to minimize her worries, but there is a bemused smile on his face as he turns his lips from the silky strands of her hair so that he might press his cheek against them instead. Out of her sight, fortunately,
“We need to be more careful come fall, but there is no risk of that now.” The absence of her scales is noticeable against his cheek, and Pteron kisses the white and soft gold skin tenderly. First her neck, where his cheek had rest, and then along her shoulder, and then her ribs. Sure of his knowledge of the seasons, Pteron’s confidence in the impossibility of the scenario gives him the courage to add: “You are my best friend too,” he tells her, “No matter what.”
@[Aquaria]
-- pteron --