Everything she did, every move she made, he followed, enraptured by her presence. It was unbearable, this physical distance between them, he was an addict and she his drug, he had to get closer – but the sweet torture of her absence made their coming together all the more climatic. It was a self-imposed torture, had he control of the way he could have lived life he would be beside her always, as obsessed as an addict, needing more and more of her in order to satisfy his needs. As it was, her absence seemed to make him go through withdrawals, he always is and would be filled with a deep and undying need for her to be near him. The thought of being able to be near her was what drove him onwards, she was his reason for living, his reason for guarding their home so carefully, for doing anything and everything within his power to please her.

The distance between them closed, as her footsteps encroached upon his space he deducted the amount of grassy stalks still remained between them until that number was zero, and her silken skin rubbed against his own. He held her for as long as he could, but then she continued moving, her bodice sliding alongside his, her teeth scraping against his spine, sending shivers that had nothing to do with cold vibrating through him. A pull upon his nether regions indicated how the stallion felt about her teasing him, but he had to keep control, though he was amused at what little prompting it took from her for his manhood to react so earnestly. Easily his frame turned upon a charred heel, following her like a great black panther would track its prey, his nose outstretched, his lips eagerly seeking the plushness of her tail to tug upon as they swayed so temptingly before him.

Deviously, he had a thought, and upon bumping his muzzle against her, he activated (with a bit of effort) the magic within him, and made Cassiopeia’s sense of touch incredibly receptive; not so much that any little touch would cause her pain, no, rather the opposite. She would feel even the breeze as it tilted a single hair of her summery coat upon her hide – imagine this times the thousands of hairs upon her bodice when Azzuen’s wings then stirred much more than a breeze. He chuckled quietly to himself, hoping to run just the whiskers of his muzzle along the smooth curvature of her back, knowing the effects would be different had her senses been at their normal level. When he performed these things upon himself, particularly enhancing his sense of touch, he always felt more alive, and invigorated, as if he could feel everything that was going on around him, as if he was one with his surrounds – right now though, he longed only to be one with Cass.