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  • Beqanna

    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "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


    [open]  été le plus beau jour de ma vie [Any]
    #11
    Bardot
    I know what sin is

    It would have been enough. To know that already she has made herself stand out amongst others in his mind. That there is no comparing her to the ones that have come before. But she cannot read his mind however much she might want to, she can’t pry back the layers of his brain and see what exactly makes him so terrible. To see if she might find something else, something that would make her right. So she remains firm in her decision to imprint some part of herself on him the way he has managed to do so on her, none the wiser that she has done so already.

    He does not flinch beneath her nip and she doesn’t expect him to. He wonders what she is trying to claim and it is nothing, nothing but taking the feel of his skin between her teeth to better sample the earthy way he tastes. If she knew what the smell of an old musty book smelt like she would say he reeks of it. Of yellowed parchment that hadn’t seen light in centuries, that crumbles beneath your fingers when you attempt to turn a page. He growls against her cheek and her lashes flutter slightly with the touch, a quiet sigh escaping her. She doesn’t answer him just as he had not answered her. Not out of spite but because she truly doesn’t know.

    She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

    All of this is new to her and she is in virgin territory. Despite the trepidation that most would feel in such a situation, she is too far in to turn back now. Nor does she want to. He plucks one of the flowers from her mane and her neck arches slightly as she turns her gaze from him to watch the way it falls at their hooves. It doesn’t hurt and she is unbothered by this missing piece of her ensemble, it would grow back. They always grew back. ”You should go home.” “I should.” She whispers as if to herself. “But I don’t want to.”

    He had been inching closer to her face and now he grabs ahold of her jaw but she does not flinch beneath the roughness of his grasp, her golden eyes blazing defiantly up at him with that smile still curling the corner of her lips. Because there is nothing here for him to take that she wouldn’t give him willingly.

    When he kisses her she can understand how easy it is to get swept away in the sudden wild rush of emotion that sends her heart to thrash violently in her chest. Can he hear it? Can he sense the rush of blood beneath her skin? As his mouth moves on hers, she thinks briefly of the way Yan had pressed that tender kiss of affection to his mates forehead. This is better, she realizes. This is something one can become lost in, something that holds whispers of affection without the claim of something so damning as love. She returns his kiss with a fierce one of her own before he can pull away, nipping at his lower lip when he withdraws, and thinks that she wasn’t meant for gentle forehead kisses or soft caresses. She wants the possessiveness of a kiss like the one he had given her. Something cryptic and forbidding, a darkness that deep down she thinks she deserves.

    Beads of sweat cling to the brightness of her fur and she too has grown tired of the sun, of the strangers that may be looking at them with open curiosity. His chest presses hard against her own, hears the rustle of his tail as it snaps against his haunches, feels the blossoming sensation of pain and pleasure spreading along her withers where his teeth find purchase. A sharp gasp escapes her, one she hadn’t even meant to release, and a warmth blooms deep within her core as she moves further into his embrace, arching her neck as if she could press herself deeper into his bite. “I would see your forest.” She murmurs into the heated blue of his neck, tugging sharply at a knotted tangle of his mane as if she might drag him there now.

    She wants to explore this monster in the dark, to let dappled sunlight fall upon the jaguar spots of her neck that shiver every time he calls her “little unicorn”, and show him what kind of creature she suspects she could be when hidden amongst the shadows.

    They may call me a sinner, but I am at peace with myself;
    html © dante.




    @Tunnel

    She's legit like "Yep let's go back to YOUR place" lmao  Tongue
    [Image: BQjeje-Bardot2.png]
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