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04-19-2016, 06:12 PM
The words came easily to her grey lips, slipping from her before she had the chance to deny either herself or her lover. Despite the fact that it was once again foreign to speak in his native tongue, she did not stumble, not over this particular phrase. How many times had she mumbled it to herself, perfecting the rough, guttural accent of his people, waiting for the day that she would be able to tell him her feelings in a way that he would truly understand? It had returned to her in a rush, reminding her of the ways that she had changed for him. Perhaps it had not been entirely a one-way street, even if it had been a narrow, twisting one. It felt so good to be pressed against him again, to feel the warmth of his flesh and the taut rippling of his musculature. She moved to press her cheek against his neck, inhaling the heady scent of him, a reminder of the mutual desire they had always shared for one another. What their relationship lacked in verbal communication it made up in physical closeness; they had always been at their best when they were feeding off of the primal energy that always found a way to blossom between them. Some might say that what they had was made of lust rather than of love, but the Transcended knew the truth: it was their lust that had always reminded them of their love. Ayyey, he promised her, mirroring her own declaration of affection; she might have said more, might have offered some kind of apology, some kind of promise to be better in the future -- but the words died on her tongue, suddenly rendered irrelevant. What did yesterday, or even tomorrow, matter when she should be enjoying today? The WildFire loved her, and she loved him, and that was all that they would ever need for the pieces of their scattered lives to fall back into place. Heat grew in her stomach, blossoming into confidence. She retracted her head, skimming her muzzle lightly along the WildFire's broad shoulders. Once she was able to see his face, she offered a coy smile, fully aware of the stallion's sudden reaction to her closeness. Mischief twinkled in her gaze; she was intoxicated, swept up in the rush of sexuality that had suddenly bloomed between them. She twisted gently from his grip, attempting to lift his wings with her own to avoid running into them as she turned away from him, offering him a clear invitation. "Talk talk talk." |
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@Gaucho
