Life is a drink, and love's a drug

[PRIVATE] Life is a drink, and love's a drug

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719

Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5

Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE

Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu

08-06-2016, 09:03 PM

Hope the wound heals but it never does, that's cause I'm at war with love
Never let a wound ruin me, but I feel like ruin's wooing me

Unlike Kygo, the opening of Gaucho's emblazoned wings did not frighten Ampere. After all the times she'd found refuge in their hold, how could they? That he was even willing to embrace her in his circle of fire was a rush of comfort and certainty; his light chasing away the darkness that clung tenaciously to her.

She'd no notion she was doing anything similar for him.
Could two broken beings mend each other?

She slid easily against his hide, familiar with the lines of his body that she had traced often enough, of the scars that disrupted his coat pattern or the small bite of sand granules snarled against his hide. As her muzzle roved against his form she breathed him in hurriedly; he was reminiscent of the desert heat, of dry and salty air, of dust and blood and sweat. Her movements against him became less tentative, assured by his responses, ignited by his substance that was now more than just memory. Unlike him she rapacious - pressing her teeth at his muscled folds with urgency, as if redoubling her efforts now would somehow amend the absence that had stretched on too long.

He didn't ask her why, and she was grateful for that, especially in this brief pocket of time where the world was set right. She didn't have a good answer for him if he should ever ask, and it was made all the weaker every second she basked beside him, wondering what had possessed her to ever leave this.

He did speak. A small, gentle voice that seemed out of place from his lips, but was not uncharacteristic in occasions such as this. The word caused her to pause, holding so still it felt as if even her heart had stopped. She waited for more, but only her name fluttered against her on his breath, the sensation instilling a flush of heat throughout her.

I'm sorry, she wanted to say, because she was, but it felt like little more than a slap in the face to come back with only that. They had never been the best at speaking anyway, so did she even need to? What could her throat impress upon him that she with all of herself could not?
Her fervor resumed, pressing herself against him as if she intended to meld with him, to never be separated again.
I'm sorry, she said without speaking, content to just be, so long as he was.

Ampere