G A R E T H
Electricity danced across his skin as her own touch mirrored his, shoulder ablaze with her warmth even as she shifted to caress his cheek. The tenderness in her movements brought the tears to a head and they rolled down his features, hot and heavy with their burden. Unlike the tears of a mare, he would find no relief in them, no chemical balance restored. He had just met his breaking point, coming to an understanding of what he had nearly done, and just as importantly why he’d done it. Pangaea deserved better.
The warrior woman pressed her forehead to his, a gesture his grandmother had done for him many times in his youth. The old comfort he found in that touch crumbled his walls further, and the stallion seemed to fall apart into her, momentarily chasing the contact when she broke it before her words reached his ears.
Rather than turning him away, she understood, without him needing to further explain. Did this mean the twist he felt in his gut was rending her insides, too? This primal hunger for each other did not just belong to him. Perhaps hers was more pure, with no memories to colour her feelings, no connection to this place to drive her. The acknowledgement of the possibilities, that this could only be a moment of weakness, stirred discomfort in the stallion. She hadn’t known how true those words would be for him when she spoke them. He resolved to be sure that he did not make the same mistake again, that he did not succumb to his raw emotions. The saurian woman was his patient, and he would need to remind himself not to cross those professional boundaries again. Some part of him knew that it would be easier once they were allowed to leave this cave, where he could once again lock away the memories, and the torrent of feeling that came with it.
The mare offered him her side then, pressing her muzzle gently to the chorded muscles of his piston. The fire crackled, the atmosphere still charged, though her touch was less sensual now. Her shoulders relaxed, her body seeming to uncoil as she sighed into him, asking the medic to hold her.
The innocence with which the words were created was the final thread that brought the brute back into his right mind. The thick cloud of energy around them began to dissipate, and as Gareth took a deep breath, his shaking exhale pushed the last of it away. His thick boa arched, and he carefully pressed his muzzle to the top of her head, her scent drifting into his nares, but no longer sending him into a frenzy. “I can do that,” he said, lyrics barely above a whisper.
The stallion shifted himself only enough so that he could cup the mare more comfortably, though he left her plenty of room, should she suddenly decide to push him away, that this was too much, and he was not and could never be her packmate. He tried not to dwell on why the thought bothered him, assigning its origin to the intimacy of the cave itself and not his own feeling. He couldn’t trust it just now, in any case. Instead, he was a gentleman, and as the warmth of her fur melted into his bones, he closed his eyes. The fire crackled pleasantly in the background, and he knew that it would burn down to embers by sunrise. The exhaustion overtook him, and with Pangaea’s scent like a balm to his soul, he held her close and finally succumbed to rest.
The warrior woman pressed her forehead to his, a gesture his grandmother had done for him many times in his youth. The old comfort he found in that touch crumbled his walls further, and the stallion seemed to fall apart into her, momentarily chasing the contact when she broke it before her words reached his ears.
Rather than turning him away, she understood, without him needing to further explain. Did this mean the twist he felt in his gut was rending her insides, too? This primal hunger for each other did not just belong to him. Perhaps hers was more pure, with no memories to colour her feelings, no connection to this place to drive her. The acknowledgement of the possibilities, that this could only be a moment of weakness, stirred discomfort in the stallion. She hadn’t known how true those words would be for him when she spoke them. He resolved to be sure that he did not make the same mistake again, that he did not succumb to his raw emotions. The saurian woman was his patient, and he would need to remind himself not to cross those professional boundaries again. Some part of him knew that it would be easier once they were allowed to leave this cave, where he could once again lock away the memories, and the torrent of feeling that came with it.
The mare offered him her side then, pressing her muzzle gently to the chorded muscles of his piston. The fire crackled, the atmosphere still charged, though her touch was less sensual now. Her shoulders relaxed, her body seeming to uncoil as she sighed into him, asking the medic to hold her.
The innocence with which the words were created was the final thread that brought the brute back into his right mind. The thick cloud of energy around them began to dissipate, and as Gareth took a deep breath, his shaking exhale pushed the last of it away. His thick boa arched, and he carefully pressed his muzzle to the top of her head, her scent drifting into his nares, but no longer sending him into a frenzy. “I can do that,” he said, lyrics barely above a whisper.
The stallion shifted himself only enough so that he could cup the mare more comfortably, though he left her plenty of room, should she suddenly decide to push him away, that this was too much, and he was not and could never be her packmate. He tried not to dwell on why the thought bothered him, assigning its origin to the intimacy of the cave itself and not his own feeling. He couldn’t trust it just now, in any case. Instead, he was a gentleman, and as the warmth of her fur melted into his bones, he closed his eyes. The fire crackled pleasantly in the background, and he knew that it would burn down to embers by sunrise. The exhaustion overtook him, and with Pangaea’s scent like a balm to his soul, he held her close and finally succumbed to rest.
"Speech" || @Pangaea | closer <3
