Rikyn

When she agrees, the wave of excitement that thrums through me is sudden and almost overwhelming. As hard as it was to think about anything other than the black velvet of her body so close to mine before, now it’s almost as if the whole world is a narrow, swift tunnel that leads my focus onto her, and her alone. Even when she pulls away, her lips seductively trailing along my shoulders, grasping my tangled mane, I don’t have to think to follow.

Angling towards the nearest cluster of small, windswept trees, their boughs adorned in spring’s green buds and first, soft leaves; I hadn’t noticed it, still barely do over the thrum and throb of my rushing blood, but the wind is cool up here, the air thin, and it adds to the wild rush of time, swept forward in the throes passion.

I don’t think about children at all, forgetting about anything else as the grove enfolds us, and I can at last bring Glacia to me in the closest embrace. Entering this moment as lifelong friends, what would we leave it as? I wonder, a fleeting thought, swift before it is carried away on the dancing sweep of longing that rises through me, as I bury my muzzle into her dark hair, and cover her.

Duir, left alone in the middle of the open meadow, watches the sea, and wishes very deeply that Glacia and my time together in the cluster of trees will be short lived.

- Time elapse to escape the awkwardness here –

That there are trees about becomes much more apparent than it had been on the way in, my eyes capable of seeing them, rather than just the ebony and snow mare beside me. Finding myself eager to be near to her, shoulder to shoulder, I pull my head over her neck, if she’ll let me, not really wanting to have to make eye contact, embarrassed by how overwhelmingly satisfied I feel at this point in time. There is something about it that makes me feel really weak, and a bit tired, revealing tenderness in myself that I usually keep hidden behind smiles, or brooding stares.

Even if I’d just shared, y’know, with her, I wasn’t about to start being an open book. Some things are better kept to yourself, like the fact that it feels really, really nice to be close to someone, especially someone from my past, or that I’d like to do what we just did, again and again. I’m pretty sure it’s why women seem to be able to control men, inexplicably, with glances, and swayed hips; anything to experience that rising, wild flame one more time.

[ OOC: Quietly enjoys the moment. 400th post! Woooooo ]