i've got some damn bad intentions - nayl

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails Nayl has appreciated the safety of her thoughts. No one could ever read her; they never knew why she was there, talking to them, or if she was at all lying. They could never know if she had ulterior motives. But with Djinni? Nayl could only hold back so much. With the evolution of their friendship there has been an establishment of trust and respect, but there has always been one secret that Nayl was keen to withhold: Stillwater. She isn’t sure what they had been or what primal emotions were blossoming between them. It seems like so long ago since she last felt his hot breath against her skin as he wanted her and fought himself not to touch her. When she blinks, it’s longer than usual as she remembers him and how the water dribbled down his skin. The temptation to fold into him was overwhelming; she had considered letting their bodies melt into each other while pushing everything else in the world out of her mind. There had been a time that when she stood with him, he was all she could see. She had been drawn to him like a moth to a flame, but they were dangerous together. They were so wrong for each other. His final snarl still rings in her memory when her eyes open to see Djinni watching her. ”Castile,” she admits only after a deep breath of composure and thought, ”If it’s a boy, then Castile.” The name rolls like water off her tongue, so perfect and fitting as she tries to picture a son shadowing her footsteps. A fleeting smile disappears as quickly as it shows when she tries to also picture herself as a mother. ”Not sure how it’ll be with a kid following me, but we’ll see how it goes,” a shrug ripples through her shoulders under the assumption that she won’t excel at the new title. At least Lior will help her with any shortcomings. She remembers the trail of kisses down the arch of her neck, his silent promise to be with her, to stay with her, to protect her. But that isn’t what holds her attention most. It’s still the scent of Stillwater that lingers on Djinni’s body. It’s the change in the mare’s estrogen and the way her stomach seems to show just a little more than from eating habits. Nayl wonders, and she assumes, but she doesn’t immediately jump to accusing her friend. No, she reiterates her unanswered question, but there is a subtle sharpness in her voice. ”And you, Djinni?” Their eyes meet as a wind tousles her mane. ”You didn’t say how you are doing?” Nayl covet and myrina's creation