"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
04-23-2024, 08:18 AM (This post was last modified: 06-30-2024, 02:14 AM by assailant.)
Assailant
He knows he shouldn’t stray too far from the Meadow, lest his party return, only to discover his absence, but he cannot resist the urge to wander, at least for a while.
The skies are nearly as cloudy as his mind today, and for this reason, he opts to forgo his preferred method of travel. The scents of damp soil and mild decay weigh down the crisp morning air as he trudges over the leaf-strewn ground. The air itself nips at his skin and puffs of vapor swell and dissipate quickly with each breath he exhales. He looks up at the dark skies and rumbles a quiet dissent, for he would rather not be near others just now.
On its own, the earthiness of this time of year is not unwelcome, but when mingled with the unmistakable smell of breeding season, it is something he cannot quite bear. At least, not now. Every time he passes by a woman, she unwittingly sends out a plaintive appeal to his ignoble past, much like a bright light calling to the hapless moth. But at the heart of his displeasure is not the fact that such longing still lies beneath the still-thin veneer of the changes he has made.
No, it is the fact that there is still enough of his former self to want to submit, to give in to the craven desires, not for his own pleasure, but to spite her for what he viewed as her intractability. While Demise had been similarly headstrong as Adriana, the former had rarely fussed about a lack of fidelity, and when she did, he had always pulled another woman into his embrace just to stoke her anger.
But that was a different era with different expectations, and he has come to accept this, so that is why the surfacing of his old habits bothers him so.
He does his best to turn his thoughts elsewhere, but since he cannot seem to shake the traces of the kelpie girl from the webs of his mind, visions of a future in which Tephra has returned begin to form. He thinks of Savior, born to defend the land they seek to raise, and he wonders what his own role will come to be.
He is not sure that he could assume a similar post, as nothing in his life had ever required much protection beyond simple border patrolling. Yet, even if he had acquired any physical skill, how would that compare to the types of magic that run wild today? There had been a small taste of greater power when he’d been part of the group that had mended the Baltian/Stratosian rift, but that had faded once he had returned to Beqanna. He recalls the celestial images that Ryatah had painted to better illustrate her tales of the past; something tells him that her magic could do far more than produce pretty pictures.
On the other hand, how much of a diplomat could he be? When given the chance in the Baltian/Stratosian past, he had done little to inspire peace between the warring countries. Though it could be a more natural path for him, given his lack of offensive abilities; and learning peacemaking might be easier than throwing himself into innumerable skirmishes or even petitioning for new magic. He wonders briefly what kinds of defensive or pacifist abilities might also be out there, which leads him to also wonder about Famkee’s clairvoyance and how she might use that on either side of the fence.
While pondering all of these branches of magic, he cannot help but think of Adriana’s water wings and the frosted scales of her skin and a tongue of fiery hunger flares up so strongly that he can nearly feel the heat radiate from his chest. For a moment, he longs for a flame of his own, if only to melt his way through her icy exterior, but then perhaps to incinerate anything that threatens her well-being.
As this thought dawns, he realizes that maybe it is best that he has no potential for tangible destruction; he might not be able to control himself under certain circumstances. He then realizes that he has traveled much further than he intended to and that he is near enough to smell the ocean air once again. He stares out over the shimmering horizon, aware that he is still looking for her and, so infuriated that he is letting her consume him so completely, that he is of half a mind to abandon the quest for Tephra entirely.
But he knows he can’t, so he grinds his teeth in annoyance and wheels around so that he might head back to see if the others have gathered in the Meadow yet.
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud, because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
At first she had clung to her stubbornness like a lifeline, but recently it had felt more like an anchor.
The flame of her anger had long since lost its fervor, but the cold ashes left behind still lingered, coating her no matter how she tried to brush them away. Her mind was a pendulum that could not stop swinging, vacillating between wanting to find him and wanting to continue to avoid him. She doesn’t know what she would do even if she did see him; somewhere in the back of her mind there is an apology forming, only she does not know if it will ever find its way to her tongue. She isn’t even entirely sure what she would apologize for; she cannot apologize for her hurt, and doesn’t think that she should have to.
But she is sorry that she leapt to reacting rather than listening, and that she had fled so far that he could not follow even if he had wanted.
All of these emotions — the jealousy and the regret and the longing — were still too new to her, but she had come to the realization a few days ago that all the solitude in the world was not going to bring her any clarity.
She doesn’t know what kind of string must be tying the two of them together when the very place she decides to surface happens to be where he is just walking away from. She didn’t think herself the type to believe in fate, and even then, fate did not always mean a happy ending. Perhaps they were only fated to destroy each other.
His back is to her, and she knows that if she wanted she could slip back into the depths, undetected. But before she even realizes it her hooves have found solid ground, and with every step she takes the ocean drops further around her, until the waves are only rolling at her ankles. Her crimson-red mane is far more tangled than it has ever been from spending so long in the salted sea, and her usual fierce confidence is somewhat quieted, feeling suddenly exposed in the open air.
“Wait,” she says, the word itself feeling cracked and dry on her now rarely used tongue, and she isn’t even sure if she said it loud enough for him to hear her.
A breeze abruptly throws itself at his back and the copper-tipped curtains of dark locks that cascade handsomely along the firm curve of his crest whip into a bit of a frenzy. He tries to let the air’s cool fingers soothe the burning sensation that threatens to rip his soul apart, but if anything, the renewed strength of the ocean’s scent only sets him on the verge of boiling again. He looks further along to where the Meadow lies, hoping the others are waiting for him, for he feels that, while they may not be the remedy for his ails, seeing them would at least give him the tools to reignite another kind of flame within him. The kind that is comforting and protective, rather the spiteful, consuming one that currently licks at his heels.
But he is not quick enough in beginning to move from the line where sand blends into soil and his nostrils flare as they pick up on something else in the breeze that still stirs around him. While anything remotely smelling of the ocean is enough to remind him of her, his nerves instantly fray as he picks up her true scent, which has been hiding beneath the salty notes that initially swatted at his nose.
Any steps that he had been about to take are forgotten as his emotions begin to churn even more violently than they were just a few minutes ago. He cannot tell how close she might be, but he cannot find her with a quick glance to the left and again to the right; she must be in the water behind him. That surprises him, as he would imagine it would be much more difficult to separate even the heady and intoxicating perfume of her body from such a substantial bouquet.
So, he convinces himself that he must be imagining things, that he has grown so desperate in his desire to end this find her, to touch her, that a psychosomatic effect has started to creep into his senses. He blows out a breath of enormous frustration as his mind decides to add insult to injury by conjuring her voice in his ear as well.
Wait.
Something is not quite right about this illusion, not quite right with the sound. Hardly daring to hope, he whirls back to face the ocean once more and there she stands, dripping water onto the already wet sand. He drinks in the sight of her, from the subtle way the water darkens her coat to the seashells knotted even more firmly into her mane, down to the softened set of her features. The crack of her voice seems to leap through the space between them, seeking to cleave through the hot anger and drive him into her embrace.
He knows that he should listen to the instinct, should let that bitterness melt away and speak the truths of his heart. He knows.
But he can’t, not yet. If only he had that true flame now. He could hand it over to her, let it eat away at her flesh just as the emotional ones have been doing to his mind over all of this time. Deep within himself, he knows that this is wrong, but if she could turn her back so easily once, what would prevent her from doing it again and again? The doubt lingers, attempting to wring every drop of passion from his heart so that it can better stoke the fire of his anger. He does not know what he needs from her to calm the inferno, but he knows that he cannot let himself fall at her feet, not yet. From the look in her eyes, he suspects she might not find any satisfaction in seeing him grovel before her, but she has enjoyed her little games before, so he covers her name in a thin layer of the same ice that she has been walling herself behind and a similarly fragile hardness settles in his eyes.
“Adriana…”
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
06-02-2024, 12:43 PM (This post was last modified: 06-02-2024, 12:44 PM by Adriana.)
i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud, because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
He turns to her, and she recognizes the change in him almost immediately.
The anger that simmers just beneath the surface is such a stark contrast to the man she had known prior that if she were a more timid creature she might have withdrawn. Being how she is, she merely gives an almost imperceptible tilt of her head. She wonders if the change is because of her—and then wonders if it is conceited of her to think such a thing. She is not (as she has learned) the only thing in his life, and it has been so long since they last spoke that she has no idea what kind of things have transpired that could have led to this transformation.
She could not fault him if it is, because surely she deserves it. She has relived their last moments together over and over, and even though each time that flame of jealousy reignites at the thought of him with someone else, the regret that follows is stronger each time. She knows that she should not have left, or at the very least, she should have returned quicker, before the wounds caused had festered into this poison.
Guilt is still such a strange thing to feel, even stranger than want and love, and she wonders if the echo of it will live in her chest forever even if she did manage to find his forgiveness.
Just moments before she had been wondering what she would apologize for, but now, standing before him and recognizing that frigid stare that she so often wore herself staring back at her, she now knows. She knows that she had damaged what had existed between them, that whatever thread had been weaving itself had snapped when she turned her back. “I’m sorry that I left,” she tells him, her ocean-blue eyes fixed steadfast to his, as if she could stare hard enough to make him understand, to make him accept her apology.
It’s only in this moment that it occurs to her that he could very well reject her, that perhaps the divide that has grown between them cannot be mended.
Her jaw tightens against the strange ache in her throat, and she swallows down the burning sensation and does not let that level of emotion reach her eyes. But the sincerity is still there, in the soft lines of her face, and in eyes that still do not leave his even though she is uncertain what she will find. “And I’m sorry that I did not give you a chance to explain anything.”
06-22-2024, 04:19 AM (This post was last modified: 06-22-2024, 04:23 AM by assailant.)
Assailant
Deep down, he is not a strong man and as such, his fortitude begins to falter almost immediately. He can appreciate the straightforward delivery of her apologies and the quiet in her voice brings out the forgiveness that he wildly wishes to envelop her in. But something still gives him pause.
That fear of the unknown that has plagued her has finally settled over him, and it is from this that his misgivings stem. It would be so easy, so natural to pull her to his side once more (and oh, how he wants to feel her again), but now he has seen how readily she lets her faith be swept away in the tides of her own insecurity. He has watched her walk away from him once and he is not sure that he will survive if there is a next time.
He knows that physically, he will go on; however, considering the changes that have occurred this time, he worries about the type of man he will become if she leaves him again. He doesn’t know how he has become so thoroughly tangled in the netting of her soul, but there is just a touch of resentment when he realizes it. He has never given this much control to anyone before and the oldest pieces of him want to break her hold on him. They want him to break her even more wholly than she has done to him.
But he can’t.
He does not say anything, but the severity of his expression lightens just enough to convey his acceptance. However, the restraint in her eyes does not go unnoticed. His initial interpretation is that though she is remorseful for her actions, she still will not let him tear down the barriers she has crafted around her heart. He feels that hot, bitter indignation rising in his throat again and it pushes him into action.
He is careful not to let any anger show as he decides to close the gap between them, to swiftly circle her, then press firmly against her side. The closeness of her body brings the scent of her into sharper focus, and he finds it intoxicating (for many reasons). For a moment, there is only the sound of his quiet but tortured breathing as he contemplates his next move. The demons he has been trying to smother feverishly beg him to revert to his old ways, to exhibit dominance in the best way he knows and likely light the fuse that would blow apart the fiasco they have created.
But he can’t.
A muted voice cuts through the din in his mind. It gently reminds him that she is young and even far less experienced than he in navigating these turbulent waters. It sends a wave of rationality to dampen the fires of his fury and he exhales heavily. “It seems we still have much to learn about each other,” he says in a raw, uneven tone. He pulls away from her to look upon her face, to take in the entirety of her.
The change is not instant, but affection slowly chips away at the iciness he had attempted to cover himself with. He remembers how their last night had begun, remembers his relief at seeing her approaching the lake, remembers the emotion that he had still refused to name. He knows what he should have said then, knows what he should say now.
“But what I have realized is that I want the chance to learn, that I need the chance..” As he loosens his grasp on his need for control, his eyes soften. He lifts his wing in a silent invitation to fall into his embrace once more, to feel the way his heartbeat quickens for her, to give him the opportunity to provide the reassurance she seeks. “And I know now that I need you.”
His mouth instinctively reaches for the golden velvet of her cheek, but he pauses in consideration and stretches upward instead. There, he does not quite touch her, gives her the chance to pull away, but not before he breathes his next words into her ear,
“Stay with me, always..”
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud, because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
She is afraid, she realizes.
Afraid as she watches the way emotions flash across his face before he quickly extinguishes them, but she catches just a glimpse of the anger he harbors and it is enough to send her heart racing. She had been prepared for the idea that an apology would not be enough, and yet somehow being faced with the reality of that was entirely different. She steels herself to the fact that he is going to walk away — the wielder of her karma, throwing back to her exactly what she had done to him.
Even now, at this moment, she cannot say how she will react if he does.
Would every part of this fortress she has walled herself behind finally crumble away, leaving her naked and exposed, broken, as she is forced to watch him leave? Or would it strengthen to such an impossible level that no one would ever stand a chance of catching a glimpse of her ever again?
She has never been the type to beg, but that moment before his eyes soften and she is left assuming the worst, she thinks that she might have.
She does not have to find out, though, because all at once he is curled around her, pressing against her, and whatever anger she had been holding onto deflates at the warmth of him. The sensation forces a strange, strangled exhale of breath, the emotion catching in her throat as if it is trying to choke her. For the space of several heartbeats she cannot speak, afraid that it would be impossible around the knot in her throat, afraid that the tears that continue to burn at the back of her eyes would spill down her cheeks.
When he pulls away to look at her, to tell her that he wants the chance to learn, that is when the first few tears start to fall. They darken her eyes to an impossible shade of blue, from the bright cerulean of tropical waters to something darker that you’d see beneath the water’s surface, carving tracks down her cheeks as they melt the frost in their path. She can’t remember if she has ever cried before, but she is almost certain that she has not; she has never loved anyone enough to be hurt by them, or to care if she hurt them.
“I’m so sorry, Lant,” she says, her voice hardly above a whisper as it threatens to still tremble with tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I promise it isn’t going to happen again,” she vows as she steps beneath his lifted wing, wasting no time melting back into his side. Her heart is once again a wild rhythm in her chest, no longer from fear but from the exhilaration of feeling his body against hers, of his feathers brushing her back and how warm he always feels against her cool scales. There is a desperation that she is unfamiliar with when her lips press against his neck, caressing gently down the slope of it and along the front of his chest, as if breaking contact would cause him to come to his senses and leave her. At his chest she lingers, her breath soft and warm along his skin when she confesses, “I need you, too. And I don’t want to lose you.”
She pauses for what feels like a long moment, her heartbeat pulsing in her ears, until she says softly, “tell me what I have to do to keep you.”
He is glad that he had decided to step away from her, glad that he could witness her reaction. The sight of tears coursing down her cheeks stirs a conflicting ache in his chest; at first, there is an overwhelming desire to reach the ends of the earth in an effort to stem their flow. On the other hand, he sees a raw vulnerability as they fall and he finds them, finds her, to be devastatingly beautiful.
Her apology is barely audible, but he shakes his head as it comes out. Then, it is nearly forgotten as she sinks into his offered embrace. A deep purr of satisfaction rumbles through his chest as he wraps his wing around her possessively. So great is his awe of the natural fit of their bodies pressed together, one might think that they’d never done this before.
Although, in a way, they haven’t. Before this moment, there had been so much nervous tension between them, every touch laden with hesitancy as they both tried to determine the depth of the other’s affection. Now, the electricity that sparks at the feel of her lips against his neck is magnified tenfold by the acceptance he has found in her remorseful eyes.
She steals the very breath from his lungs as she trails her kisses down to his chest and he instinctively turns to tuck the top of her head into the arch of his neck. Remembering her words, he huffs lightly; it is not to dismiss her apology entirely, but rather to convey his disapproval at her attempt to assume full blame for their separation. She may have been the one to walk away, but he was not without fault. He lifts his head to press his lips to the spot between her ears, where he nibbles at the red and gold hair as he murmurs softly, “I am sorry as well. I should have taken your concerns more seriously.”
The warmth she exhales onto his chest is comforting as is, but when she tells him that she needs him too, an entirely new sensation ignites and spreads through his body like wildfire. He recalls how he had been going back and forth on how he would manipulate flames if he could, on whether he would destroy or protect. For a terrifying moment, his anger had flared so high and hot that he’d toyed with the idea of using flames to give her a taste of the torment her desertion had given him.
But, now that he is here, clinging so desperately to the most precious thing in his world, he knows that even if they never crossed paths again, even if it meant eternity of nightmares after finding her with someone else, he cared too much to watch her go down in flames of his own creation. He would have destroyed himself if it meant shielding her from futher heartache. But he is thoroughly grateful that fate has given them another chance and if he could, he would use the fire in his chest to build a fortress that no harm could ever penetrate.
He believes her to be finished speaking and he is content to continue their embrace in silence, but then she whispers again into his chest. The warmth that had bloomed beneath her lips flares into an inferno and once again, he is acutely aware of the time of year. A shiver races the length of his spine, carrying the heat with it so that it can settle elsewhere.
But now is not the moment, so with great effort, he restrains himself yet again. He does not feel a need to put her through any paces to prove her loyalty, the fact that she is here, that she has faced her fear and expressed the truth in her heart. That is what he has needed all this time. He pulls away from her, his body shuddering at the loss of contact. He positions himself so that he is facing her now and he touches his nose to hers. He lingers there for a while, then slowly drags his lips along the curve of her mouth, then the side of her face until he eventually lays his cheek against hers.
“Nothing,” he says quietly. He is not sure that she still needs to know, but he decides to give her the comfort that he should have given her that night. “There has been no one since I first laid eyes on you. I am yours, only yours, for as long as you will have me.”
His mouth moves against her again, silently expressing his desire to know every inch of her, to show another side of his devotion to her. He can feel his willpower giving way to the wickedness rising within him, but still, he takes his time in grazing his teeth along her neck, over her shoulder, over the length of her spine. As he reaches the dock of her tail, he bites at her flesh more firmly than he had been. His breath falls heavily over her skin as he asks, “Why don’t you let me show you just how much I need you?”
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud, because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
She is not used to being this open, and even though she does not regret it, every second is a fight to not hide herself again.
For so long she had kept him at a distance, ignoring the pull that she had felt in favor of the solitude she had been most familiar with. No matter how badly she wanted him to know every part of her, she had lived with her old habits for too long to simply shake them off without a second thought. They are still there, thorns of insecurity that have burrowed into the far corners of her mind, and each time she feels a flutter of happiness it is as if someone has pushed against them. When her pulse races when he touches her, when her chest warms at his words, it is not without those small pinpricks of fear accompanying them, and she wants nothing more than to be rid of them entirely.
She knows that if she does not learn how to lay her armor down for good that she is going to continue to make things worse. That he will grow tired of fighting against her shields, especially after today, when he has told her all the things that she has longed to hear. She only hopes that he knows that she is trying; that no one is arguing with her insecurities louder than she is, and that she is determined to not make the same mistakes twice.
If they fall apart, it is not going to be at her hand.
He pulls away from her just momentarily and she shifts as if to follow, only for his lips to again find the side of her mouth. Leaning willingly into his touch she exhales a quiet sigh, the guilt threatening to flare to life again at what he says. She swallows it back down, her eyes closing for a moment before she tells him, “and there has been no one else for me since I met you.” She laughs, a quiet, breathy sound, before adding, “or ever. I have only ever been yours.”
She can feel her heartbeat quicken again as his mouth explores the curves of her body, and it feels strange — but also so inexplicably right — to let him do it instead of shifting away teasingly. She has only ever left them wanting; she has never let anyone touch her so thoroughly as she lets him now, has never considered letting anyone go further than she is already hoping he will go. She never thinks of moving away; she leans into him, all that want and desire coiling tighter, seeking out his touch with a backwards step into him and a soft gasp when his teeth sink into her skin. Whatever apprehension she might have felt is drowned out by how fast her heart beats and how loudly her thoughts are consumed only by him, by his touch, by wanting him closer. “Yes,” is the only word she can manage in answer to his question, her body trembling faintly and her heart in her throat.
As she struggles against the thorns that give her reasons to hesitate, so he considers his own. Prior to that night in the Dale, he had been presumptuous in believing himself a wholly changed man. Yes, he has made considerable progress in accepting and adjusting to the unfamiliar expectations of the modern world, but he sees now that antiquated beliefs still linger beneath the surface.
Ultimately, he had let his anger simmer and threaten to boil over because he expected her to blindly and thoroughly submit to his will, though he had not given her any substantial reason to lay her faith in his hands. As in the past, he had expected compliance and devotion simply for being present, for giving her the time of day. And if that were not enough, he had even considered reverting to promiscuity as punishment for her fears.
He is a fool and now that he sees this, he vows to be more mindful of how he behaves, of how he speaks, and especially of how he reacts. He cannot afford to feed the roots of her insecurities, to let their thorns grow long enough to drive them apart again. But he knows that means he will have to whittle away at his own pride, and he also knows that will not be so easily accomplished.
But for her, he will try, so he says the words that allow her to see his heart, to snatch it from his chest and do as she pleases with it.
He relishes the comfort he finds even in the sound of her soft sigh, delights in the slow burn of noticing that she seems to crave his touch as much as he does hers. Then, she reveals the purity that she’s been masking with her coquetry and a low hiss of carnal greed rises in his throat as he realizes that he will be the first and the only one to have her. Though he seems patient in laying his kisses along her frosted flesh, the ancient creature that has always been coiled deep within him unfurls at long last. It claws at its bindings, howls for him to feed the hunger that has been gnawing at his belly, but he finds the strength to ignore the call, wanting to light up her every nerve, to know that she is utterly consumed by the scorching flames of lust that have already burned their way through him.
But then she backs into him, and in the sharpness of her gasp, he can hear the thick ice of her inhibitions cracking beneath the weight of their combined desire, just as he feels the frost of her scales melting in the heat of his breath. His touch instantly becomes more fevered, more urgent, as his mouth slips lower on her skin. His lips, his teeth, and his tongue are suddenly everywhere, memorizing the taste and feel of her as she shivers for him. In this moment, he discovers that he could spend the rest of eternity worshiping the curves he has long admired and still, he would feel as though he could never have enough of her.
The creature in him purrs in anticipation as he continues to lavish her flesh with his lascivious intentions, but when she gives her consent, it roars in triumph and his senses go hazy. He nips at the inside of her thighs, tugs at the strands of her tail a few times, then pushes his chest against her once more. He can feel the heat that radiates from her, and though he is grateful for the change from the hesitant coolness that he is used to, he does not let it distract him from completing the fluid motion of sliding his body over hers.
It has been a terribly long time since he last held a woman this way, but the instinct is still there as he seizes her withers with his teeth, using the grip to help settle into position. He then releases his hold, using his mouth to trace the underside of her jaw. His eyes close as he skims up the side of her face to breathe a husky whisper into her ear. “This,” he pauses to pull her closer, to press the evidence of his desire against her before he continues, “is only the first of the many ways I intend to prove just how much I love you..” He trails off into a groan as his hips surge forward to claim her body.
It had seemed natural and correct to stand with her wrapped protectively in his wing, but that pales in comparison to having her beneath him like this, so he takes his time to savor the feeling, to brand it permanently into his memory. Eventually though, fire sparks to life in his belly again and he begins to move, slowly at first, but gradually descending into a demanding rhythm that sends his teeth scraping needily at her shoulder. As he feels himself approaching the heights of their passion, he murmurs her name into her skin, begging her to spiral into that sweet oblivion with him.
All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware
i showed him all my teeth & then i laughed out loud, because i never wanted saving, i just wanted to be found
She does not think it would be possible for her heart to beat any harder, and she is certain that he must be able to hear it.
For the girl that did not often get caught up in fantasies, she has dreamt of what it might be like to be touched by him more times than she would dare to admit. Even now, this reconciliation did not feel real. It felt like another fabrication of her mind, and she is afraid one wrong move will send her crashing back to reality. That she will blink and he will be gone, vanishing back into the shadows of her dreams, and that she would once again awaken with the same cold, vacant-like ache in her chest.
She doesn't know how actually being here, quivering beneath his touch, is both the most real and unreal thing that she has ever felt. All her longing and dreaming could not have prepared her for what it would actually feel like to have his mouth and tongue laying claim to every inch of her, and if there had been anything left of the walls she hid behind, they now crumble at his will. In a span of moments it feels as if the rift between them from their time apart is mended, and somewhere through her hazy thoughts she recognizes that they will not be apart again.
The hunger in his touch sends electric sparks up her spine, her breathing already quickening to match her racing pulse, and just when she thinks she cannot possibly withstand waiting any longer, she is entirely enveloped in the warmth of his body on top of hers. She has never been with anyone else, and somehow she still knows that with him this felt unmistakably right, as if his body were designed to fit with hers. With a tilt of her head she leans to receive his touch, her eyes closing as his lips caress her jaw, her golden neck curling to be closer to him when he traces up the side of her face.
She wishes she could say something, anything, in response, but her tongue feels too heavy in her mouth, and anything she might have said is stolen in the next moment.
She bites down on the sound that rises in her throat when she enters her, and it comes out as a short, breathless moan.The feel of his weight settled on top of her, of his legs wrapped around her, and his warm breath against her neck is enough to entirely distract her from any discomfort she might have felt, and all at once she is spellbound by the realization that this is the closest they could ever possibly be. Instinctively her body falls into rhythm with his, and she loses all sense of the world around her. There is nothing else save for them and the tangle of their bodies together, and the way shape of his name on her tongue over and over like a desperate plea as that taut coil of desire winds itself tighter and tighter.
It is the sound of him uttering her own name that is her undoing.
That release she had not realized she was searching for finds her, and in an instant it is as if she is unraveling beneath him. Her neck arches, her mane clinging to now dampened skin, and her body writhes as if every nerve has been set ablaze. She has no control over the way the overwhelming sensation causes her to gasp and cry out between short, panting breaths, entirely held captive by the tidal wave she found herself drowning under.
But even though the waves gradually begin to ebb, her need to have him close does not. She stands there for a few moments, still trembling and breathless. “Lant,” she murmurs, her voice low, once again turning her face towards him and this time pressing her lips to one of his legs that still grasped her sides. She does not say anything else, not yet, afraid to break the spell they found themselves under.
