Indeed two sides of the same coin the pair was. He all fire and thunder, while she all intelligence and steady calm. His fang could be tempered by one glance of her mahogany eyes, his conniption culled with just a brush of her curvilinear bodice. He, a raging and spitting volcano had but one master, one leader, one soul whom sported the most adorably fierce mask. Yet, he wondered if she even knew it. If she knew the power she wielded over him, of how he rebelled against it since the day he first felt it so long ago. He too felt the static that sparked and hissed between them, that threatened to balloon into an inferno so primitive that neither would escape unscathed. It thrilled him just as it slipped caution into his paws, how it made him pull up instead of running to her. How it had forced him into isolation in order to protect her from the beast that was he. Was. Were. Past tense, or so he hoped.

Eyes painted in contrasting hues are trained on her, watching her, studying her before dropping lower. His gaze once heated then combusts as they zero in on her inky quivering lips, while fighting his urge to drag his tongue across them. He wants to smooth them out, to ease them into contentment, yet he knows that now was not the time, that there may never be a time. Mouth parts to comment, to instruct her on learning command of her emotions when she lowers herself, stealing all breath and words from his throat. Eyes widen with a mixture of shock laced with immense pleasure. He should move, should knock her from his body and claim his place above her…but…but it felt so good. What was his purpose here again? Why was he lecturing her agi…god her scent. Without another thought he lifts up, burying his nose within her ruff and inhaling deeply. So sweet, frost laced with pine yet tempered by honey. Even her rumbling growl, a sound he hears and feels, cannot disengage him as he gorges himself on her.

Brows are drawn tight as he sequesters the memory away, her words wrenching him back to the moment…to reality. ”With violence my Dragon there can be no dispute. It is right or wrong, no gray, no maybe.” Indeed that is how he saw life, black and white, with no room for grey area for with grey area there is doubt. Yet, he was not so sallow as not to see that his Dragonfly saw things differently. She sought to reign with a stern yet benevolent paw. He could respect that, but he knew others would not so quickly. That it is easy to lose practice if thing should go array. Sometimes a cuff up side a head goes further in teaching another the boundaries than a long speech. ”I understand where you stand and I shall respect it as long as you follow through when it is needed. Do not allow your nature to interfere with what your primitive side demands. With what wild nature instilled within you from your parents and those before them.”

Eyes flicker down to her chest to indicate her heart and is immediately reminded by their closeness; of her warmth as it envelopes him, of her dominance. Unable to stop himself he wraps his paws around her, drowning in her, alarm bells shrieking that he should leap away. He ignores it and it is his downfall. With the swiftness of a viper she rears, her paws striking out. Pain is the first thing he feels, followed closely by shock, and mischievous mock anger. Instantly he is upon his paws, eyes trained on her with all the deadly intent of a hunter. He glares at her as if she was the one who stole his bone, the bone that stood between a full belly and death by starvation. If she had looked upon him before he assumed such a demeanor she would have seen the respect and mocking indignation and she would know that he would not hurt her…much.

He gives them both a moment, having to reorient himself after being on his back for so long as well as dragging oxygen into his lungs, before he is ready to begin the game by pacing back and forth. She is close, the little siren, keeping him from gaining momentum as he scrutinize her position. He contemplates many sneaky little maneuvers before discarding them all and rushing forward. Due to the little space between them, it is not a very effective charge but nor was it meant to be. If he timed it just right he would be able to close the distance quickly so that he could execute his first attack. He aims to be angled so that he faces her left shoulder. If it is true then once upon her he will rise upon his back legs, his right foreleg draped over her back while his left one attempts to grip around her neck. His mouth will then attempt to clamp down upon her ruff, seeking a secure grip in order to drag her back down to the earth. He will throw his weight into his hindquarters so to help facilitate the move. The dual attack, the bite and then the jerking to ground, will be his first priority yet he will be careful of where he places his left “wrist” as not to provide too tempting a target. Brows are knitted as he jerks, knowing that if it lands then she will experience pain, yet bracing for her retaliation.