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08-27-2016, 03:41 PM
A low chuckle rumbled in the back of his throat as she proclaimed that the World’s Edge sounded ’dangerous.’ His heavy, bearded head cocked slightly as his sharp, yellow gaze watched her closely, listening to her answer. He had heard of the Basin, it had been said in passing during his time in the Edge. Though he hadn’t visited it nor flown over it; the mountains’ rough updrafts reminded him too much of flying the plateaus. And he was all to happy to leave that behind him.
He remained quiet for a moment, his own face brightening with a grin to mirror the same sudden, exuberant amusement that bubbled to hers at his invitation to touch his wing. He still watched her closely, appreciating how dazzling her amber eyes became when not clouded with fear or apprehension. Those were the kind of eyes a man loves to look into— especially when in the throes of passion.
But, (surprisingly) obeying to her command, he stayed relatively still as she approached with caution. He is not ignorant to the pleasant feeling of the ripples her legs send crashing into his thick columns; nor does he miss how delicately her muzzle brushed against his feathers. Her muzzle—it was freckled. He hadn’t noticed that before.
“They’re so…soft.” And he broke his vow of stillness as, again, he outright laughed at the woman’s words, his wing moving with his barrel’s vibration of amusement, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that as a compliment,” his words came from between chuckles. But, as his chuckles faded, he continued to watch her, his wing (still slowly) spreading out further, “You can feel as much as you’d like,” his rough voice was as genuine as his laughter—and he tried to hide the ulterior meaning of his words, though he wasn’t sure he was succeeded. She was a beautiful little mare, after all, and they were in water surrounded by the scents of coupling.
So he took a deep breath, continuing on an earlier vein of their conversation, “I haven’t been to the Basin,” the topic change was quick, “But the Edge isn’t too dangerous. Just some high, misty sea cliffs. Besides, little Elspeth, a little danger makes you feel alive. It just might do you some good,” and he winked playfully (if a little suggestively) at her.
He remained quiet for a moment, his own face brightening with a grin to mirror the same sudden, exuberant amusement that bubbled to hers at his invitation to touch his wing. He still watched her closely, appreciating how dazzling her amber eyes became when not clouded with fear or apprehension. Those were the kind of eyes a man loves to look into— especially when in the throes of passion.
But, (surprisingly) obeying to her command, he stayed relatively still as she approached with caution. He is not ignorant to the pleasant feeling of the ripples her legs send crashing into his thick columns; nor does he miss how delicately her muzzle brushed against his feathers. Her muzzle—it was freckled. He hadn’t noticed that before.
“They’re so…soft.” And he broke his vow of stillness as, again, he outright laughed at the woman’s words, his wing moving with his barrel’s vibration of amusement, “That’s the first time I’ve heard that as a compliment,” his words came from between chuckles. But, as his chuckles faded, he continued to watch her, his wing (still slowly) spreading out further, “You can feel as much as you’d like,” his rough voice was as genuine as his laughter—and he tried to hide the ulterior meaning of his words, though he wasn’t sure he was succeeded. She was a beautiful little mare, after all, and they were in water surrounded by the scents of coupling.
So he took a deep breath, continuing on an earlier vein of their conversation, “I haven’t been to the Basin,” the topic change was quick, “But the Edge isn’t too dangerous. Just some high, misty sea cliffs. Besides, little Elspeth, a little danger makes you feel alive. It just might do you some good,” and he winked playfully (if a little suggestively) at her.
graasvoel
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