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07-01-2017, 12:29 AM
Kianzo
While you burn at the stake, I dance with the flames.
The dark prince's head jerked back at Bellisma’s sudden, rash response to his simple revelation. His own bright blue gaze widened as he watched her, felt her. She was suddenly in his space, her gilded, hot, small body pressed close as she leaned towards him; her rounded, gold breast pushed towards his deep, ashen one. Over-large, verdant eyes are probing his, and so beautifully framed in thick lashes set in her delicately sculpted face…
Her heated body rekindled the blaze in his veins that Kiada had awoken. It stiffened the bands of his sinew; pulsed in his groin with each beat of his heart; robbed his mind of its careful and analytical thoughts with each stroke. His eyes only saw the gleam of muted light over the soft curves of her body; his ears only heard the low thrum of need beneath her demanding question; his mind only recalled the days that memories of Bellisma had tortured him with heated, confused thoughts.
“I… thought I did,” his deep voice finally rumbles quietly, haltingly.
His dark lips reached out, pressing softly and then firmly against the skin of her neck—and it is as satin-smooth and as hot as he remembers from his colthood. A deep, long breath pulls in a scent—a familiar one, but he now realizes how foreign it is to Helovia. It is one of sand and heat and dry air, even amid the Labyrinth’s greenery.
His lips then encountered a lock of thin, golden, straw silk—her mane. And the strands broke the trance of touch. He realized he head stepped even closer to her, his black jaw nearly pressing against the side of hers as his muzzle laid against the upper part of her neck. His taller chest nearly touching hers, though their heights made him tower over her.
He realized, then, that his breaths were coming in deep, hard gulps. So he paused, uncertain, not knowing what his body was wanting or needing. Only know that he wanted and needed it feirely.
It was this unknown desire, coupled with his innate trust of the mare that had taught him much in his foalhood, that allowed him to push aside his pride and ego. Instead of hiding his confused longing beneath sharp and barbed words, his low voice simply asked, “But…but will you show me, again?”
Her heated body rekindled the blaze in his veins that Kiada had awoken. It stiffened the bands of his sinew; pulsed in his groin with each beat of his heart; robbed his mind of its careful and analytical thoughts with each stroke. His eyes only saw the gleam of muted light over the soft curves of her body; his ears only heard the low thrum of need beneath her demanding question; his mind only recalled the days that memories of Bellisma had tortured him with heated, confused thoughts.
“I… thought I did,” his deep voice finally rumbles quietly, haltingly.
His dark lips reached out, pressing softly and then firmly against the skin of her neck—and it is as satin-smooth and as hot as he remembers from his colthood. A deep, long breath pulls in a scent—a familiar one, but he now realizes how foreign it is to Helovia. It is one of sand and heat and dry air, even amid the Labyrinth’s greenery.
His lips then encountered a lock of thin, golden, straw silk—her mane. And the strands broke the trance of touch. He realized he head stepped even closer to her, his black jaw nearly pressing against the side of hers as his muzzle laid against the upper part of her neck. His taller chest nearly touching hers, though their heights made him tower over her.
He realized, then, that his breaths were coming in deep, hard gulps. So he paused, uncertain, not knowing what his body was wanting or needing. Only know that he wanted and needed it feirely.
It was this unknown desire, coupled with his innate trust of the mare that had taught him much in his foalhood, that allowed him to push aside his pride and ego. Instead of hiding his confused longing beneath sharp and barbed words, his low voice simply asked, “But…but will you show me, again?”
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