"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Perhaps he tries to convince himself that Aela is just a distraction. It’s only partly true. Although the images of the jaded young mare annoyingly buzz in the back of his mind like a gnat that just refuses to be swatted, he is genuinely attracted to the striped mare, who glows like warm amber sunlight just before the sun settles to rest. It’s more than just her looks. It’s the way she volleys his questions back at him, refusing to get bogged down in his traps. She’s quick with her tongue (and he cannot help but wonder in what other ways that wicked tongue of hers might find use) and every time he thinks he’s caught her… Has figured her out… She leaves him guessing. Leaves him wanting more.
“Perhaps.” He muses, a murmur of warm air that dances briefly across her bright skin. Maybe he does care what she thinks. Just a little.
The way she brushes against him makes him grit his teeth a little harder but he cannot stop the rugged sigh that escapes him as her lips begin to trace the hard planes of his shoulder. As he leans into her touch. She asks about politics and he can’t help but laugh darkly, his red eyes blazing as they look back to where she lingers on his onyx skin. “I can think of better things to do then talk about politics.” He growls but falls silent as the memories suddenly seep through his flesh.
The ocean in her eyes flash with lighting as unwanted images flood through his head. He sees lands he knows and some he doesn’t. Some are missing where others seem more prominent. Part of him resists against this assault (remembering Wherewolf’s agitation) and his frustration expresses himself with the sharp snap of his tail whipping against his haunches. However he stays put, unwilling to pull back when her muzzle was still pressed to him, still moving lazily along the length of his body.
When she pulls away, it’s definitely the need of her touch that outweighs any displeasure with her magic.
He doesn’t let her get far.
His own lips finding the sensitive skin of her withers, gently plucking bits of sunlight between his teeth before his own muzzle begins to travel further upward. “What do you want from me Aela?” He breathes into her neck, his blazing gaze once more finding hers. It’s a question of multiple interpretations. One speaks of the tension that rockets between them, as the hunger to explore her becomes a craving that demands to be satiated. The other refers to her images, to the memories she had shared, to the unanswered question of politics.
Perhaps if she asked nicely, he would answer both.
05-26-2021, 06:25 PM (This post was last modified: 05-26-2021, 06:30 PM by Aela.)
YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS
"Oh," she rebuttals his perhaps. He is close enough that his breath dances against her sunlit skin and Aela decides that if they are this close, what can a little closer hurt? The memory is there again of this other mare, of this woman that @[Obscene] is so badly (and poorly) trying to forget. She isn't sure if it is the way she reaches up to lightly trace his dark frame or if it is the Pampas Prince that chases the ghost away.
She'll remember her, for later.
"You shouldn't care what I think," Aela says and has the grace to smile. It's the closest to the truth that she has spoken with him in their entire meeting. She absentmindedly touches the dark skin nearest towards her, "my thoughts only seem to lead to trouble." Another truth, one perhaps that he can appreciate given their proximity. (Aela has always thought herself quite humorous.) One that makes her smile almost deepen when the rugged brute tells her there were other things that they might be doing instead of discussing politics. It does make her stop, and while she doesn't move far away, she's glad for the miles that her memories put between them.
Obscene is handsome.
And it makes her wonder if he is like her, that he uses his fortunate looks to his advantage.
What surprises her - apart from the way he grits his teeth, the way that he suddenly seems so on edge - is that his fiery gaze doesn't condemn her a witch. That when he looks at her, he doesn't burn her with the accusation. Aela takes a fluid step away from him but the Pampas ruler doesn't her get far. She stops and lets him loom close, tower over her, and press something fervent into her elegant neck. Aela stands caught in a current of emotion that she has made herself, a trap that has captured her. Desire that she puts towards him, that feeds into her. "I want everything," Aela tells him and feels no shame when she meets his gaze.
"But what about you?" she murmurs, because while they both want, she senses that do so differently.
05-28-2021, 01:56 PM (This post was last modified: 05-28-2021, 01:57 PM by Obscene.)
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Subconsciously he must have used his looks as a weapon. Just another tool in the box of arsenal he carried. Cruel lies, sharp words, and devastatingly good looks could get you far as a mortal. Farther than he had thought if he was being honest. He hadn’t expected any of this. Of ruling a territory, of having someone like Aela showing even the slightest bit of interest in him. Yet here they were and there she was, pressed against him as if she had always belonged there. As if the patterns she follows with her mouth are trails she’s traveled many times before.
“You shouldn’t care…” He is quiet, keeping truths to himself. That she was making him care slightly. That she was able to chase all other thoughts away when she was standing this close to him, taunting and alluring. “I’d like to see such thoughts.” He leans into her suggestiveness, his lips ghosting along the slight slope of her backside before she moves away from him.
He wants to forget and she is ambitious, the truth lays between them regardless if they acknowledge it or not. However, he cannot help but reach for her despite the cold kernel of truth that they are using each other. There’s still a thought, a hope even, that no matter how it starts it could morph into something more tangible. Something as real as the way she feels beneath his roving touch.
When the images fade and he is exploring the golden sweep of her neck, breathing in her mesquite scent, the desire that fills him becomes so overwhelming that he is hard pressed to take her right then and there. It’s only his inexperience that holds him back although he does not stop the fervent kisses that continue to travel up her nape. “I want everything.” Her drowning gaze fails to put out the fire in his own as he looks back to her. Lingering so close to the edge. So close.
And what does he want? “Aela.” Her name low and husky off his lips, falling almost like a plea. Finding that he too can say someones name like a prayer to the Fae. “I want you to stay.” A whisper of a kiss along her jaw, dangerously close but unwilling to make the final move without her consent. His mouth instead moves to her ear, a whisper of words that he hopes will be enough to draw that passion into reality. “Become my Seneschal. Advise me.” There’s a flicker of a subtle challenge as his muzzle lingers close to her own. “Guide me.” He growls and desire is written all over his handsome face, tension coiled in his muscles as his longing floods through his body, his pulse quickening with each breath she takes. The cold heart beating wildly as the hunger for her fills him.
Still he waits, teetering on a brink, waits for her to give the word and push him off the edge.
06-09-2021, 08:47 PM (This post was last modified: 06-09-2021, 08:51 PM by Aela.)
YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS
She hadn't meant to get this carried away, but here she is, swept away in a tide of emotion all of her own making.
Aela drifts out further than she means to, driven by her desire and the one that she plants between them both. She had been spinning half-truths and dancing around any absolutes while lingering so near to the dark brute. She had refrained from saying anything truthful, anything that Obscene might be able to grab hold of and pull her back with. That is how she has always been; a swift-footed mare who had been even quicker with her tongue and even quicker still with her mind.
"That could be arranged," she says airily, reaching for him again because Aela finds that his ebony skin is intoxicating to touch. Her pretty smile curls on her pale lips much the same way she curls her slender body around him.
"Alright," she whispers to the Pampas Prince, like this wasn't a possibility she hadn't already considered. (Aela had hoped that perhaps such an offer might be made. There was opportunity here, possibilities to stir Beqanna awake. To do something when all the Land of the Sunrise had done was hide during the Endless Night.) The glowing mare hadn't expected things between them to go so far but here there were and she found that she didn't mind; there could be worse company to keep and worse ways to spend her time.
Obscene challenges her by keeping his mouth so near to hers and the small mare smiles, curving her neck slightly as she glances down.
"I know nothing about politics," she warns him lightly and then can't help herself; Aela reaches for him again. "And you know the Pampas better than I do." The palomino murmurs, "so perhaps we might discuss this somewhere more... private." The golden mare shares a few images with him, quieter places where they might be afforded a little more privacy.
06-09-2021, 09:50 PM (This post was last modified: 06-10-2021, 01:00 AM by Obscene.)
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
They are both caught in the tide of their own making and he comes to find that he doesn’t regret it one bit. Not one single bit. It doesn’t matter in this moment if deep down this is nothing but superficial, a pact made on lies and deceit, a fanciful game of pretend. This flirtation seems more realistic at least than the fantasyland he had explored on the curved planes of an intoxicated green and onyx mare. Aela was the kind of woman he deserved. Beautiful, wild, cunning, and ruthless. And perhaps he knows on a deeper level that he deserves someone like Aela who would always keep him at arms length.
He cannot hide the sensations that she stirs with the smile that presses into his dark skin. It is a feral noise that rumbles in his throat as she teases him and then accepts him, his offer at least. She agrees to stay and there’s a broken part of him that seems to ache a little less. “I know nothing about politics,” she says as she arches her neck demurely and looks down and his lips are on that curve of muscle as she begins to reach for him. His teeth pinch pieces of sunlight between them before ending in a possessive kiss. “Neither do I.” He reverberates into her neck with a soft chuckle. It wasn’t exactly true, he knew a little bit about kingdom and territory workings from watching the workings of Tephra as a child and those few bittersweet months he had been taught from his parents.
Before he can suggest that politics can wait, she speaks and he instantly realizes she has no intention of talking over such dull things in their current predicament. Images flood through his mind again but this time he grins into the buttery smoothness of her gilded fur as he takes note of exactly how secluded these places were. There is one spot where the flowers seem to climb exceptionally high in a hilly forest of their own making. Now covered in the coolness of snow, there were some crevices where one might find privacy and a little warmth. He thinks of that place and then steps away from her, the heat of her flesh still tingling against the dark parts of him that had once touched her. “Already failing in your new role.” He teases her, a dangerous glint in the depths of red as he begins to step away, leading her.
06-13-2021, 07:23 PM (This post was last modified: 06-13-2021, 07:25 PM by Aela.)
YOU'RE ONLY AS SICK AS YOUR SECRETS
@[Obscene] reaches for her and Aela doesn't move away from him.
He is grasping for pieces of divinity and the palomino can't fault him for it. She knows that she is beautiful; wild in the way that infernos blaze, brilliant in the way that meteors shine. Aela imagines that Obscene is searching for salvation and drunk on the emotion that she projects, Aela doesn't blame him for seeking it on her golden skin.
There is something primal stirring in the dark stallion and Aela answers it with a gentle touch.
She presses into him and doesn't care where he starts or where she ends. They are melding of black and gold, shimmering in the daylight and it is not the heat of the sun that she feels against her gilded skin. He curves into her arched neck and Aela basks in his heat, every lovely curve of her tuned into the Pampas leader. She reaches to drag her teeth lightly over the ebony skin before her, "Don't say I didn't warn you." Aela teases him, smiling even though she knows that they should be discussing what she intends.
That their conversation should be full of thefts and steals, of ways that they might wake every corner of Beqanna instead of the heating building between them.
Aela has plenty of ideas of how to rouse the Pampas from their peaceful slumber but with the Prince so close, it can wait. There will be time later, she thinks.
The Prince already seems to have a place in mind, where the wildflowers and the trees converge together. A hideaway of sorts and the palomino follows him, matching his stride with a fluid step of her own. The flatlands full of blossoms give way to hills that can hide secrets and this is exactly the kind of privacy that the slender mare had been seeking. "I fail at nothing," Aela murmurs lightly to him when they have (finally) secluded themselves. She reaches up to press a kiss to his jaw that lingers near, a dare to the challenge that Obscene had given her earlier.
Something that she would be willing to show him, should he go searching for it.
I can see through you, see your true colors Cause inside you're ugly, you're ugly like me
Her wildness speaks to an invisible flame that bubbles to the surface of his skin, the cold in the air forgotten as she looks at him with those brazen blue eyes. The ice melting with her desire that seeps into him and reaches back for her. An endless cycle when she kisses his jaw and he reciprocates by moving his mouth to hers, his body merging with Aela’s into a tangle of black and gold. They should be discussing many things, there was work to be done in the Pampas. He knows that to keep her is to let her scheme and plot and to use him as the puppet that she desires. But he finds that he has much more to say through the touch of his lips to hers, to the caresses and sharp nips he plants all over her gilded body, and the sudden racing of his shriveled heart that flops uselessly in his chest when pressed to hers.
It would be a lie to say he was confident, that his nerves weren’t getting the best of him. Now that they were here, hidden from prying eyes, he almost doesn’t know what to do with her. It is lucky that instinct overrides his own insecurities, a primal need burning him from the inside out as a feral groan escapes between dark lips. He shudders beneath her touch, the way she roves over his black skin, exploring. Traveling paths that had never been traveled before.
Whatever he lacks for in experience he makes up for with passion, eager and willing to learn under her guidance. To find exactly where she likes to be teased and nipped. The winter can be long, there is plenty of time to discover what could possibly bring Aela to her striped knees, but he doesn't mind learning now. This was something new, something enticing. There is a darkness in the depths of red and his touch is perhaps rough at times but if she objects, he listens. And when he moves behind and rises over her golden haunches, when they fumble through the awkward dance of a first time, he comes to understand that he has found a new vice to chase. A new sin to become lost in, something that feels better than the high of pollen and nectar combined.
He finds he craves more of it. He voices this aloud to her, wants to try again. And so he does, with her wicked blessing, and this time he feels more confident. This time is not as rushed and confusing as the first as he grips pale strands of her hair and presses fervent kisses along her withers. When he comes to stand beside her, to tuck her beneath him in a way he had once seen his father do to his mother to show affection, he doesn’t feel so much like that plain lost mortal boy anymore. He breathes her name into her neck, his muzzle aimlessly tracing patterns in her fur of his own creation, as he closes his fiery eyes and enjoys the heat of her against him.
For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t think of her, the girl of onyx and green. There is nothing but sunlight in his mind, tarnished gold and a glacier gaze that seems to lose some of its frost in the face of his desire.
![[Image: Obscene-Pixel.png]](https://i.postimg.cc/fTkjKh9Q/Obscene-Pixel.png){kind=tracking}