P a n g a e a
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."
what if I was made for you and you were made for me
"Speech"
Thoughts
@Gareth
Notes: <3
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
