what if the sky falls or the sun stops burning
we could worry about them what ifs
'til the world stops turnin'
or i could kiss you what if you liked it
The last week had been like trying to nail a screw into a rock with nothing but a piece of paper. She was really starting to worry that she'd been reading so much of the tensions wrong. That it really was one sided. That what she felt for him, the ache; was just on her side. That he really only saw the saurian woman as his patient, not . . . Not his woman. Even curled up under the stars, he never failed to prove he was such a perfect, candidate for a freaking angel, absolute celibate gentleman.
She wasn't flirting with a rock, she was flirting with a glacier. So cold she could burn herself on it. But when she felt just a little bit of a give in the armor, she dived in as quickly as she could, desperate to prove to him what was between them.
But tonight the air was alive with laughter. He'd managed his tent, even as she explored the stalls, keeping close enough to rush back to his side when the crowds became too much. But as the day darkened, as the bonfire was built, as the coming dance was called, she playfully trotted to his medic's tent, the sweet scent of wine on her muzzle as she dipped her muzzle over Gareth's back, nibbling on the bound locks of his mane.
She'd stopped obeying their careful distance a week ago, and in that same amount of time, she willingly reached out to him in such ease, that she was noticeably more relaxed. "The dance will be starting soon! Should I save you a dance, handsome?" The slightly tipsy maiden asks as she pulls herself from him. "I'll see you at the bonfire!" She promises, before sliding past him and out the tent.
She doesn't head straight for the fire, however, having been told about a small shop with clothing available for the dance. She enters slowly, looking over the shawls, veils, and scarves. It doesn't take her long, golden, slightly sheer scarves tied around the bindings in her hair, the jingle of the bells sewn into the fabric chiming. A shawl that flickers like fire is draped over her back, around her wings. She spins in the mirror and smiles at the way the fabric swirls around her, tiny anklets with bells in her limbs making each step chime in tune with the bells in her hair.
She eagerly heads to the bonfire, already hearing the barda having start up in song. Her gaze glances around, and she frowns to note Gareth isn't here yet, but she chooses not to focus on that, already swaying the the music. Her talons scrape along the laid out stone to keep the meadow protected from the fire, and some of the dancers give her a little more space.
She hardly notices, swaying and spinning, sometimes on two legs usually on all four. Sparks kick up in time with the bells, the fabrics draping her body floating around her, a playful smile on her face as she dances with the sparks
well we ain't never gonna know unless we try it
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
what if this is it what if it's meant to be
what if i ain't one of them fools just playin' some game
what if i just pulled you close what if i leaned in
and the stars line up and it's our last first kiss
what if one of these days baby i'd go and change your name
what if i loved all these what ifs away
She was driving him absolutely mad. Noor had been on the brink of skewering him with the nearest sharp object by the time the two of them had left for the inaugural celebration held in Delumine. Gareth had carefully tried to maintain their distance, the respectful boundary between medic and patient, trying desperately not to blur the lines. They were in place, after all, to protect her. In effect, the gentle giant had saved her life, had healed her wound and nursed her back to health. Her affections could have been an attempt to repay him, or even a shadowy cousin to stockholms. He didn’t like the idea that her advances were a product of some need to pacify him for services rendered.
They had agreed that first night in the cave, an evening that seemed so very far away now, to allow her to heal completely before seeing if the sparks that passed between them could kindle a real flame. The medicine man could not take advantage of her, would never have forgiven himself if one day she came to her senses and realized that her feelings were fleeting and a bid to protect herself from the dangerous unknown elements of a strange land.
The facade was crumbling, though. Pangaea was as stubborn as he was, perhaps even more so. She was relentless in her pursuit. It was clear the saurian woman knew what she wanted, and had every intent to obtain his returned affections. He had mirrored her glancing blows on their travels, had pulled her just a bit closer each night as they made their way across Denocte (careful to avoid that love nest of a cave, as Gareth had been convinced they would never make it to the festival if they did) and the neutral lands to the Dawn Court.
She had left him largely to his own devices this first day, milling about the vendor tents while he had set up his own stall. The woman always gravitated back towards him, though, like an asteroid caught up in the pull of another celestial body. Thankfully, there seemed to be very little mending he needed to do for those in attendance. A scrape here, a cut there, the occasional burn. It was still only the first day of many, and as Pangaea rotated back to his tent once more with the distinct tang of wine mingling with her own heady scent, he was reminded that the night was young and that alcohol had a way of dulling the senses as well as inhibitions. He sent up a silent prayer to Caligo, and Oriens for good measure, that this evening, just this one, would be devoid of any major medical excitement.
As if in response, the full moon shone just a little brighter, and it felt as though the goddess of night was giving him permission for this one night of freedom and revelry. The tingle of the warrior’s soft muzzle against his skin stirred the sleeping beast in his gut. It turned over lazily as she nibbled on his mane, a gesture that he had become far too familiar with, and one that he had been dreaming of returning more times than he cared to admit. Like a flash she’s gone, though, and the stallion took a steadying breath, moving about the tent to close it for the moonlit dance.
The meditative work lulled the beast in his belly back into a quiet slumber, and it allowed him to consider for the first time unhindered by outside influences his own feelings. Though Noor no longer spoke ill of Pangaea, he clearly disapproved of the state of affairs, echoing the medic’s own fears that the woman was not speaking from clarity of mind. Her advances had been steady, like the pounding of the sea upon the shore, and it had quickly become something that the stallion was accustomed to. Surely if she only meant to repay some debt owed she would not go through all the trouble. Would have taken the gift for what it was and left them long ago. They both knew that she had been steady on her feet before the first real thaw, but made excuses to stretch their time together anyways.
Though he could not rightfully say what he felt was an attraction, an affection (oh gods how in denial he was about that) the giant knew that he wanted to get to know her. To know who Pangaea was when she was not focused on healing, on mending tenuous bonds with housemates -packmates- or protecting those same people. He wanted to know more of the Pangaea who had been giddy to discover fruit preserves, who spoke of valiant tales with the kin of her homeland, whose laugh burned a hole in his chest and lit him on fire from the inside.
It took the medic longer than he anticipated to make his way towards the bonfire, following the trickle of court members and the faint melody of the bards tasked with providing music for the evening. He passed a stall filled with colourful silks and jewels, a bright pony exclaiming that the items were for borrow or sale for moonlight dance purposes. Several mares had gathered, tittering and trying on different combinations in a quest to find the best match to woo their selected dance mate. Gareth wondered briefly, only briefly, if Pangaea would have woven scarves in her hair and donned fair shawls, if only to appeal to the more fashionable attendees.
He heard the chatter before he saw for himself the spectacle that constituted the bonfire. Rarely did the stallion draw himself to his full height, always mindful of his girth and the level of inherent intimidation that came with it. At this though, he straightened, able to lift his head above the crowd that had begun to gather. A familiar figure in not so familiar adornments -so she had decided to wear some after all- twirled around the light of the fire, alternating a standard quadrupedal stance and transitioning smoothly into bipedal one, orbiting the dance centerpiece as gracefully as any dancer, sparks trailing behind her and accenting her foot work.
It was absolutely mesmerizing to watch. Gareth stood with mouth agape for several long moments. As she turned again and again, the warrior woman’s talons clacked against stone, showering sparks in a rhythm that caught his heart in his throat. Pirouetting on her back legs, tail a cascading plume, her features framed with golden silk, lit by the fierce crackling glow of the bonfire, as sparks shimmered at her feet and reflected in the swirl of her hazel pools, he caught her eye.
Bathump…
Bathump…
Bathump…
The slumbering beast roared to life and lust coursed through his veins, quick and searing hot. He could not tell if he had muscled past the crowd or if they simply parted before him, but it was of little consequence. All that mattered was that he reach Pangaea and taste her scent and feel the shower of her sparks against his skin as they danced under Caligo’s blessed moon.
"Speech" | @Pangaea | I wont let him get spicy but there will definitely be sauce
what if the sky falls or the sun stops burning
we could worry about them what ifs
'til the world stops turnin'
or i could kiss you what if you liked it
She moved with fluidity, but even as she danced freely beside therm fire, her gaze searched the crowds. She spun again, kicking up a shower of sparks, and as she turned back, he was suddenly there, his muzzle dropped open slightly, just watching.
A suddenly power washed over her, the thrill of knowledge to know she'd caused that! She made him still . . . And then his gaze caught hers. It seared through her, watching thise emotions come roaring to life, and suddenly she felt powerful, beautiful. Her footwork slowed as he emerged from the crowd, her steps carrying towards him like magnets drawn together, "Do you dance, Doctor?" Her voice rumbled between them, one of those silly fabrics suddenly draping around his shoulders, encouraging him closer to her, even as she pirouetted out of reach, a tantalizing flame to draw her moth towards her. But just as she playfully flamed his emotions, she was just as drawn to him, soon twirling back towards him in an array of sparks until she suddenly stops directly in front of him.
Hazel eyes meet hazel eyes and she brushes her muzzle up his neck, through those cords of mane to whisper at his ear, "What do you want, Gareth?" She whispers, before spinning to press up to his side in a shower of sparks that sizzle lightly at their heals, harmless and fleeting, but a tickling presence. Her lips press against his shoulder, where it joints with his neck, nibbling lightly, the slightest scraping of her fangs, "Do you want . . . Me?" She twirls again, never staying in place long, before suddenly she's infront of him again, a playful muzzle as she catches the sharp she had draped over him, using it to pull herself to him, chest pressed to chest as her muzzle presses into his neck, nibbling on his mane, "'Cause I don't know how else to get you to see . . . I'm yours. Not cause you're my doctor . . . But because you're simply Gareth." So don't keep pushing her back, as she pulls back again, her eyes dancing, only on him the rest of the world fading away. As she pulls him into her dance, praying he'd stop being the simple doctor afraid to cross a boundary with his patient. And be the stallion enjoying the party with his mare. Cause she had been his for weeks now. He just needed to accept it.
well we ain't never gonna know unless we try it
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
what if this is it what if it's meant to be
what if i ain't one of them fools just playin' some game
what if i just pulled you close what if i leaned in
and the stars line up and it's our last first kiss
what if one of these days baby i'd go and change your name
what if i loved all these what ifs away
The question punctuated by a salacious flutter of lashes as the mare approached him, meeting him as an equal. A hearty spring breeze pulled the feather-light shawls she wore across his shoulders, and he could have almost sworn that it was intentional. Pangaea twirled away, drawing him further towards the fire, though he only managed a few steps before she was in front of him again, sparks dancing across the stone.
Brazenly she swept her muzzle across the thick muscle of his neck, pushing aside loose twists of mane as she traveled to his ear. What do you want? The words were phrased like a question, but the way she spoke them told the stallion she already had an answer in mind. She danced around to his broad side before he could answer, the heat of the bonfire warming his skin just as much as the teasing performance she was putting on. Everywhere the saurian touched was electrifying, sparks skittering across his flesh.
A shiver rolled through his body like thunder, a low rumble barely recognizable as his own radiated from his chest as her fangs pressed to sensitive muscle. She answered her own question before moving in a flurry of silks once more, pirouetting around his flank to wrap him in those same silks when she came to a halt in front of him. Gareth’s heart boomed in his rib cage, and he thought it might leap from his body and straight into hers as she pressed into him.
Surrounded by her like this, in every possible sense of the world, the stallion was being driven to the brink. If it had been her intention to break down his careful barriers, she had done an excellent job. The medic was a gentleman, but he was a man after all, and cloaked in her touch, lit by the same golden glow of firelight, everything fell away.
The ache in his heart he hadn’t wanted to call fear transformed into another hurt entirely. He had been lonely, been running when their paths had, quite literally, collided. He didn’t want to believe that this pull he felt could be real. For all his folk wisdom, Gareth had no knowledge of women. His only romance had been star-crossed at best, and it had torn him to shreds. Noor had painstakingly tried to rebuild the healer into the man he had once been, but it had left parts of him hollow and bitter and angry. He had tried to drive that bitterness away by healing those around him, to distract from the root of his hurt, to feel some sense of progress. He hadn’t wanted to admit that for as much as he had been tending to Pangaea, she had been tending to him, too.
Without having known a word of his former life, of the failures he had brought upon himself, of the heartbreak that still cut him to his core, she had taken that beating muscle and soothed it, her presence in his life a balm to the soul. The warrior woman had taught him how to begin to trust again, the necessity of deep connections, of family, something he had been nearly content with never achieving again. She had slowly worn away the sharp edges of his brokenness and filled the cracks with gold.
Gareth gave over to the instinctive pull, the part of himself his grandmother had taught him would never lead the stallion astray. Following her steps as best as he could, the brute circled the dame, keeping close enough to brush her golden cream skin, to feel the sparks as they flashed across his legs, and he danced. With the taste of wild blossoms and ancient stone and warm sands on his tongue he pressed his muzzle to her bound curls, drinking deeply of her scent, accented with notes of sweet wine and ash.
“If you were to count all the stars in Caligo’s clearest sky,” he rumbled, sweeping his touch across her neck and behind her ear. “It would still only measure a fraction of my desire for you, Pangaea.”
Thoughts and feelings can be kept in one’s heart like a secret, growing without ever seeing the sun, without knowing the full extent of their potential. Some would say that it is better to keep these things close, as confessions are fragile things, easily broken by harsh words of ridicule or rejection. Words when spoken can never be undone. Like spells woven by talented magicians, they carry power and truth. Some do not understand the strength of that truth until they are shared aloud. Confessions of affection, of the seeds planted for budding love, these are often far more powerful than those who harbor them could imagine.
The stallion did not know the strength of his conviction until he spoke, sudden clarity in the absolute truth of it. He did desire her. To know her, to have her, to see where life would bring them both. Perhaps it was the influence of the full moon, known to heighten any emotional state. Perhaps it was the spring air, full of laughter and light and joy. Perhaps it was the bonfire, the wine, and the way Pangaea moved as if crafted by the hands of the gods themselves. Whatever the case, as the words fell from his lips, he knew those feelings to be true.
"Speech" | | @Pangaea | This is a clunkety clunk express, I'm sorry
what if the sky falls or the sun stops burning
we could worry about them what ifs
'til the world stops turnin'
or i could kiss you what if you liked it
The air had changed, charged like it was that night in the cave . . . but this time, it was tempered by real feelings. The affection that had developed in the last few months, the last few seasons together. Yes she was desperate to get him to wake up, and see what was in front of them, what could be there if he just let it be . . . but she didn't just want to break down his walls for a night of fun . . . no, she was aiming for a bigger prize when this was all set and done, she wanted him for forever. If he would just prove he wanted that too, meet her halfway, let her see it wasn't in her head, or that it wasn't just lusting on his side. That this was something as pure and precious to him as it was to her.
She had nothing when coming to this land, just the pain and torturous memories of being in an unfamiliar world, and having escaped from a hellish place that she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy. She had been alone, ripped apart from the last pack member she had, and knowing in her heart what she couldn't admit - that he to had perished somewhere along the way. She had no one, was fending for herself, a victim to pain, hunger, and half expecting this world to just turn a blind eye and let her die . . . she hadn't actually planned to make it through the winter.
And yet, even when she tried to kill Noor, tear into him for a desperate bid of food . . . Gareth had tended to her wounds, lecturing her for not seeking help, taking from his own supplies to help her. She had survived only because of him. But it wasn't that, that was the cause of her feelings. Sure, his generous and tender nature definitely played a part in it, but it was just that - his nature that had her lingering. It was in the kindness in his eyes. The laughter that rumbled from deep in his chest sounded as pure and precious as the bubbling of a creak. It was in his smile and the way it made her feel when he turned that smile onto her. It was the way he cared for strangers, the way he opened up for others, and gave, and gave, and gave of himself.
She couldn't find a fault in him, where it mattered . . . but if he didn't just take her she was bound to jump him herself one of these nights. So she amped up her game, planned this dance out since she had heard about it. Knew that she was going to have to spark his interest even if she had to bite him in the rear to notice. She wasn't expecting it to be this easy. He had been drawn to her in that first shower of sparks. The silks that swirled over his shoulders, her light, dancing steps as she twirled around him, pulling him in closer, encouraging him to follow her.
She didn't hesitate in her touch, just as she didn't obscure her words. She knew what she wanted, and damn it . . . she was pretty sure she knew that he wanted the same thing. So she didn't push, and instead, she danced, twirling around him, lightest of touches, gentle of teasing, fang against hide. And her heart hammered into life to watch the shiver race through him, that low rumble that did funny things to her inside at the prick of her muzzle. Did he know how much that simple sound could undo her? How it made her want to shower him with nips and scrapes just to see if he would keep making them. If they would get deeper if she'd feel his bite upon her skin in retaliation.
She didn't hesitate, however, pressing close, purposely keeping herself around him, surrounding him, pulling him deeper. She could see it in the way his eyes followed her, feel it in the heat against her skin as she pressed to him, the way his own heart seemed to pound in time with her own. Yet he didn't touch her. Was he frozen, or had she been wrong? Was the reason he refused to give in because he knew it was just a brief lust . . . that he didn't want her for as long as she wanted him. He always said he didn't want to hurt her . . . Would just one night ruin everything they had?
For a brief moment fear struck through her heart, terrified she'd made the wrong move, terrified this would ruin everything, terrified she'd read too much into his actions and words, and mistaken lust for love, just because it was what she wanted . . . he didn't give her long to worry before he suddenly moved, his steps suddenly mirroring hers. A flash of hope entered her gaze, softening the determination into something more tender as he circled around her, his skin brushing hers, and she smiled, turning, engaging in the dance. His muzzle buried in her curls and she leaning into him, and this time - she didn't twirl away, she twirled closer, as his gaze swept up, his rumbling words soft, sweet, purer than she could have ever imagined.
She turns her gaze up, tilting her head, and meeting his gaze without hesitation. Her smile was soft, gentle, as she brushed her cheek against his the movement suddenly softer, gentler than the fire she'd been serving before, "Then stop being stupid." She chided, nuzzling her face against his, "Stop trying to chase me away . . . " Her words were softer, and she moved closer, towards him, pressing close, as the world around them seemed to grow silent to her ears, her attention fully on this stallion she was gently twirling with. She tucked her head beneath his, her cheek rubbing against his neck, briefly, before she trailed that light touch down to his shoulder, nibbling and nuzzling as she goes, "Stop denying me . . ." She repeats, nipping at the base of his neck, before nuzzling the spot gently, "Let me in . . ."
She settles her exploration, her head coming to rest over his back, and she clings to him, her eyes closing, just keeping him close. "I want you, Gareth. All of you. Your good, your bad, your happy and sad. I want to laugh with you, cry with you, soothe your pain and be the reason for your joy . . ." She settles against him, her movements stopping as she just stays there, holding him close, surrounding herself in the scent, the presence of the stallion, "Gareth . . . " She lifts her gaze up, waiting until he meets her gaze before she continues, "I'm no poet, so I can't make soft, sweet comparisons to stars and passion and desire . . . but you're home, Gareth. And for as long as you'll have me . . . I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but wrapped in your embrace, and being a part of your life."
well we ain't never gonna know unless we try it
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
what if this is it what if it's meant to be
what if i ain't one of them fools just playin' some game
what if i just pulled you close what if i leaned in
and the stars line up and it's our last first kiss
what if one of these days baby i'd go and change your name
what if i loved all these what ifs away
If you asked the stallion to pinpoint when they had stopped moving he wouldn’t have been able to tell you. Pangaea fit to him like she had always been a part of his being, and even his clumsy footwork couldn’t keep her from pushing closer. There was some part of him vaguely aware that their dance had garnered a few open stares, but they only tickled at the back of his hide, less important than the cascade of sparks he felt as she passed her muzzle down the length of his neck to his shoulder. Her words were sweet and soft as she caressed his flesh with a tenderness that consumed him.
Her embrace felt like coming home, her lyrics gospel in a temple he ached to worship. Gareth pulled her close, burying his nares first in the soft plume of her mane, tasting notes of his own earthy scent among her desert flowers and fresh summer rain. He could have spent an eternity here, holding her not in the platonic embrace of friendship, or the professional touch of medicinal courtesy, but in the cradle of lovers. The stallion could have sworn up and down he felt the beat of her heart against his skin and found that his own muscle moved to thrum in sync.
The jaunty tune the musicians had been projecting moved into a slow melody, the space around the bonfire filling with more couples as they took the opportunity to pull each other close under the moonlight. The shock of cold as Pangaea moved away caused a split second of panic, the medic moving to chase the sensation of her skin against his own before he realized she was only moving to look him in the eye.
Her gaze was warm like honey shot through with swirls of mossy green and flecks of bright gold. He could have fallen into them and swam away, to the promised land of eternal summer. Gareth reached for her, soft cream pressing to pebbled hide as he brushed his muzzle to hers. His touch was gentle, hesitant even, as if wondering even now if he might be crossing a line. The stallion’s breathing was low and slow, though his heart was pounding in his ears, and the heat that rose to his features cast a faint reddish glow at his cheeks. He stood there for a long moment, simply wanting to touch her, his amber pools closed to the world around them, focusing on the ethereal tingle where the edges of their beings became one.
“Alright,” he finally whispered, whiskers tickling the skin as he moved to nuzzle her cheek. “For as long as you desire…” The stallion’s touch trailed down the taut muscle of her neck to her shoulder. He caressed her spine, the sensitive skin between her flight appendages, his tones like rolling thunder. “There will be gods who do not live as well as we.” His lips parted and he allowed the edge of his teeth to tease her flesh, a shiver coursing through him as he became drunk on her scent.
what if the sky falls or the sun stops burning
we could worry about them what ifs
'til the world stops turnin'
or i could kiss you what if you liked it
The night was still chilly, despite the arrival of spring. Winter still clinging where it could. But beside the bonfire, Pangaea had only felt the barest hint of that dreadful chill. And now, with Gareth beside her, swallowing her up in his embrace, she felt like her very skin was on fire, a rush of heat that tickled at her hide, pulling shivers from her spine every time his muzzle came in contact with her skin. The way she folded into him, the way they just fit was proof enough for the Saurian mare . . . and she was finally beginning to believe that he really did see it too.
The mood had softened from a carnal hunger to a tender affirmation, and the mare felt like weeping as he pulled her to him, his muzzle burying into her mane. She melted into that embrace, holding him just as close, her wings arching forward in a swoop as if to block their private moment from those who wanted to watch, who had been staring at the couple for the last little while. Lost in their own little world, the mare felt every tension fall from her body, and a sense of rightneous take hold.
She pulled back, the move gentle, even as he moves to chase her. She smiles gently, reassuring, pressing her body closer to his, so he might not think she was leaving - that she could leave, that she would ever willingly leave. And then his muzzle touched her, gentle and hesitant, his muzzle brushing against hers. She's less hesitant, nuzzling into the gesture, before hi whisper lit up her world faster than any firework, as his muzzle raised higher, to her cheek. She smiled gently, shifting willingly to give him access to her neck, her side, the freedom to explore her skin at his leisure. "As long as I desire . . ." She repeats, the soft, throaty rumble of a purr leaving her body as his lips trail along her spine. "I think I could desire you for forever, and never grow weary." She states, before that rumble purr almost turned to a throaty growl at the nip of teeth to her flesh.
Her own muzzle nuzzled in his mane, alternating between tiny nips, and gentle licks too soothe the spots, keeping her own sharp teeth in check to not actually mark him. Not yet at least. She leans in closer, eyes closing, as she's swallowed in the existence of him, his smell, his touch, all wrapping around her, and settling every worry she had felt. "You paint a poetic picture, Gareth, but we could live as poor as mice; and I'd still be happy as long as I was with you." She whispered against his flesh. "You're the best thing to have happened to me yet."
well we ain't never gonna know unless we try it
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
what if this is it what if it's meant to be
what if i ain't one of them fools just playin' some game
what if i just pulled you close what if i leaned in
and the stars line up and it's our last first kiss
what if one of these days baby i'd go and change your name
what if i loved all these what ifs away
Enveloped in her wings and the illusion of privacy the stallion nibbled at the sweet spot of her withers, burying his muzzle under the thick torrent of curls bound by leather and soft silk. His head swam with the mare’s scent as she enjoyed him thoroughly in return, speaking of desire and forevers. The primal beast that lay in his belly loved that idea, her words coaxing a deep rumble from his chest.
“I’m sure I could weary you,” he chuckled, the subtle tones of seduction thick on his tongue as he nipped at her flesh again, gently teasing the skin between her flight appendages.
From outside their fantastical world, swallowed in each other, the festival moved on. Some continued to stare and giggle, others giving them wide berths. The two brutish creatures had settled near to the bonfire when their dance had slowed, the heat of the flames tickling at their hides. Gareth found it welcome; though the seasons had turned officially to spring, the night was still crisp with a chill that encouraged lovers to pull each other close, just as their own embrace had done.
The stud found his muzzle traveling the woman’s spine, the joints where wing met shoulder, any flesh that he could find. “And you to I,” he rumbled in return. Though he did not wish to stop touching her - he had ideas for anything but- the stallion pulled back just enough to catch the mare’s tender gaze once more.
“You are absolutely ravishing, Pangaea.” Unable to keep his distance for long, he pressed his lips to her cheek once more, breathing softly their combined scents. “I am the luckiest man in all of Novus to spend tonight with you,” he whispered.
At the edge of the dance floor the bards changed the melody again, a sort of jaunty bar tune. The stallion’s audits flicked as he heard a raucous call from some young stud, his words slurred with the influence of mead, to “Find a tent you horny fucks!” to the delight of several equally drunk friends. The sudden acknowledgement of the spotlight cooled his hormones with a wave of embarrassment. It was a rare thing for the medic to forget his manners, but the wiles of the Saurian mare brought it so easily out of him.
The carnal beast in his belly demanded he spin around and choose violence over being so thoroughly interrupted, but Gareth ignored this instinct, his hide twitching in annoyance, choosing instead to clear his throat and mutter. “Perhaps we should, ah… either dance or find somewhere to settle for the night.”
what if the sky falls or the sun stops burning
we could worry about them what ifs
'til the world stops turnin'
or i could kiss you what if you liked it
Time had stilled with in their small cocoon, her wings wrapping up, blocking out the world to the best of their ability. She melted under his soft touch, as he nibbled against her skin, his muzzle tangling in the curls of her hair, and she leaned into this moment of bliss, their combined scents swirling around her, his rumbling response to her words swallowing her whole. She was pressed as close to him as she could get, and even then it didn't feel close enough. It never felt close enough. She always, always wanted more. And finally she was beginning to think he really did too.
His words, chuckling and full of seduction delighted a shiver down her spine as he hips at her, and she playfully bats her eyes up at him, "Oh now don't go make promises you can't keep. Perhaps I'll have to put you to the chest." She purred in response, amber eyes reflecting the light of the fire as she smiles coyly, meeting his seduction with the rousing temptation she offered him as freely as she offered herself to him at the very start of this conversation. She wanted all of him, and in return she had gladly offered all of herself up in return.
But the world wasn't still, it wasn't silent beyond those engaging wings as others continued to dance, some watching the couple lost in themselves, others giving them their space, avoiding them. Pangaea paid them no mind, provided they didn't distract her stallion from showering her with promises. His muzzle is trailing her skin again, as if painting a roadmap to his heart with every passing touch, every nibble upon her flesh. "Ravishing? I was going for merely tempting to get your closer to me, seems I over stepped my mark . . . No regrets." She teased, even as her expression softened at the soft touch to her cheeks, and she meet that softness willingly, brushing the side of her muzzle against his, the gesture lingering, gentle, a silent proof her emotions, her actions weren't just the result of fire in her blood and lust on her mind.
This wouldn't be a one night move for her, "You'll be spending more than just one night with me, Gareth. I'm not going anywhere." She reminds gently before she jumps and startles at a sudden slurring shout. It's like a sudden shower of cold water dumped over her head, a sudden sense of embarrassment and annoyance flooding her features and her head ducking into his neck. The gritting of her teeth and slight rumbling growl is the only proof that her actions weren't from a desire to hide, but to keep herself from reacting more violently than these festivities were meant to be. Even at Gareth's smooth words, she kept her muzzle buried into his skin for a moment longer, the low growl soothing at his suggestion until the desire to rip into those who would so callously break apart their moment subsided into a mere irritation.
She lifts her head, before nodding, "Let's settle in for the night. I got my dance with you, and that's all I wanted from this event. Besides, I can't guarantee my behavior should those idiots say anything else." The saurian mare stated softly, as the part of her brain controlled by the apex predator demanded blood payment for the interruption of a lesser species. Instead, the more dominant equine half settled the carnivorous dinosaur as she circled around the stallion one last time to stand side by side with him, nudging his shoulder with her own, "Let's get out of here, I'd rather have you all to myself in privacy anyway." She teased with a playful, wicked glint to her eye, and walking away from the bonfire, shooting him a 'come hither look' as she did so, all play, all tease, all his.
well we ain't never gonna know unless we try it
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
what if this is it what if it's meant to be
what if i ain't one of them fools just playin' some game
what if i just pulled you close what if i leaned in
and the stars line up and it's our last first kiss
what if one of these days baby i'd go and change your name
what if i loved all these what ifs away
The stallion gave a throaty chuckle at his dance partner's reaction, nuzzling against the crest of her neck gently. He had gotten to know Pangaea enough to understand that she clung to him less from embarrassment and more as a form of shield to protect the poor souls from her wrath. He found it mildly endearing, though the beast in his belly demanded he let her show the drunken fools how sharp her talons truly were.
“I am very glad that I got to spend this dance with you,” he said, pulling away. “If nothing else, this entire festival will have been worth it for that.” A tender smile graced his lips, watching as the woman came around to his broad side to nudge against him. The soft silks in her hair and across her shoulders caressed his body as she walked by.
Gareth’s gaze trailed after her, admiring the lithe way she moved towards the inviting darkness and the promise of a comfortable tent to spend the evening. She cast him a look that he couldn’t resist and he moved to follow her. The medic would have followed her to the ends of the earth and off the chasms of the Arma if she asked him to; so long as she promised that he would sprout wings and fly, he’d have believed anything the saurian mare would have said.
“Provided the evening is quiet,” he said, catching up to her curvaceous figure, leaving the openness of the bonfire behind. “You never know what kind of things drunkards get up to.” The stallion nudged her in return, grinning mischievously. “Until then, you can take advantage of my time and privacy any way you’d like.”
"Speech" | | @Pangaea | Closer - sorry it's so short, though
