G A R E T H
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.”
“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.”
"Speech" | | @Pangaea |
