But it also wouldn't be an understatement to say that Isopia gave him the best night of his life in this very spot, surrounded by walls of stone. Not just the act itself, but the intimacy, the closeness, the feeling of being wanted instead of just desired - they may seem similar in meaning, but they're worlds apart.

Kiss me. The command takes him by surprise, because he'd not thought her the sort to be so...demanding. It's surprisingly arousing, although he does his best to stop the physical signs of that from showing. He obliges; he isn't the sort to obey so easily, but this is more than just an order, it's a demand, a need, a want. His muzzle slips forward, seeking hot skin and malleable muscle, but he finds nothing but fresh air. A guttural growl of displeasure makes the ground beneath his feet shake with the force of it, and his ears flash momentarily backwards. His disappointment doesn't last for long, though, because she slips along his side with a grace that he often forgets he possesses, her body lowered as though to offer him the domination he craves.

She knows him far too well. A smile replaces the frown, curving across his face and making it glow like an open flame.

She curves behind him, and the warrior in him shudders at the notion of letting somebody freely access that area, that blind spot, that weakness. He has to fight not to whip around to face her, instead standing his ground upon his plateau of earth and using his other senses to detect her presence. He can hear her footsteps, and his body sizzles everytime she comes anywhere near it - she's off his shoulder now, her wing hovering over him. Unable to resist any longer, he takes a step backwards so he can be fully next to her, almost stumbling as his rear feet slip off the platform he's created. He re-erects it behind him to keep his height level with hers, although her stooped, almost submissive posture is not lost on him. It appeals to the most ancient and basic instinct, the most primitive and in-built sense of lust. One step to his side brings their heated flesh into contact, sending frissons of pleasure through every nerve ending.

She wants this, too. That's all he can think as he stands beside her, his breathing ragged, hitching with lust. She wants him as much as he wants her. It's a thrilling, delicious thought, but one he feels almost guilty about thinking. He shouldn't even be contemplating this, shouldn't even be entertaining the idea. Their problems started here in this very place, when their bodies forged their relationship into stone then allowed it to crumble away; they were never the same after it. Maybe that was because they became real after they slept together, adding fuel to the fire of Isopia's jealousy when she realised about his other children. Whatever the reason, the best night of his life quickly gave way to one of the worst days of his life - when he made her the dolls of them, and had her rejection spat like venom in his face.

Should we be doing this? he should be saying. Is this wise? Is this stupid? Are you sure? Are you ready? All those are things he should be saying, yet he does nothing but lift his lips to her ear, purposefully breathing hot air against her neck and cheek. He even gives the smallest of tantalising bites, trying to insert into it every one of those questions, needing to know the answers, needing her to let them continue along this road that they certainly should not be going down, but which he can't seem to turn away from.