P a n g a e a
'Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
She doesn't know whatbwould be scarier, being honest with herself, and what she wanted, or letting this stallion slip away. She could make any number of hollow excuses. The cold of the cave needing combined body heat to survive. Or the ground being uncomfortable, could she lean against him. Instead she'd spoken abpartial truth, refusing to elude to deeply to how she has come to crave his gentle touch, her heart spiking at his husky laugh; how his smile was her undoing.
He didn't even know her nor she him. Not really. Yet he was like a drug to her senses that she didn't want to ignore. His booming laugh lifts her gaze and she can't help the smile that tugs at herblips when he casual responds about her not encroaching when he was the one digging through her flesh. But she feels a shift as he suddenly watches her with that intensity that does funny things to her inside.
She freezes in surprise, holding still as his muzzle comes towards her, burying deep into her mane. She can see the way he temples. Hear the croon as he breaths deep, and she's afraid to move, afraid to scare him off, even as her heart starts to hammer, her voice soft, suddenly breathless as his breath ghosts against the her skin, tickling the edges of the sensitive scar, "Gareth . . ." She doesn't know if it's supposed to be a plea, a question or resounding approval. It's somewhere in the middle of all three.
He shifted, that contact she had been denying for so long coming to face, feeling the warmth of his chest to hers, as his muzzle drifts down to her spine. Her eyes close, her head dropping to his shoulder, pressing her forehead against the joint, her breath softening as shebwelcomes the contact, drinking in him just as much as he seemed to partake of her skin. His words were a whisper, a promise to her soul and she lightly turns her skull, her forehead still pressed to him, still clinging to him as if he were a precious gift from the gods. But those golden eyes of hers had warmed to molten honey, "Okay." Her words were softly whispered against his skin, her lips brushing against his pelt as she spoke, as she leaned into his touch, accepted what he would offer at his own rate, and allowed herself to finally drop the pretense, allowed herself to, at least for the moment, admit the butterflies where real, he, every part of his being, did something to her. And while he was offering, she'd take all she could. For as long as he offered.
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Gareth
Notes:. <3
Cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
And in your heat I feel how cold it can get
Now draw me close
