Faolain’s skin prickled at the sound of Rivaini’s approaching hooves. It was not an unpleasant prickle - it was, in fact, almost an itch. A tickle of sea wind dusting salt and gentle spray across her fur, causing her to shiver, and causing a strange craving to develop in her, a craving that prompted her muscles to jump and twitch in delicious anticipation beneath the whiskers of her companion when she drew near. Faolain’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and she leaned into the touch with a little sigh. It brought a satisfying relief - satisfying, but in such a way that she needed more of it, rather than a sensation of fullness, or completion.

With another little sigh - a sound that nearly turned into a whimper, however uncharacteristic such a noise was for Faolain - the black mare twisted her neck to reciprocate the gentle press of lips against skin. She felt the subtle rumble of Rivaini’s voice, and smiled at her simple greeting. She kept quiet as her companion continued, as was her way, but her ears twisted to catch the melodic sounds of a voice of which she never tired of hearing. Though she did not immediately respond, she did allow a chuckle at Rivaini’s feigned offense, and she pinched a fold of red skin in a gentle rebuke.

When the copper mare pulled away, Faolain met her eyes with an exaggerated pout. The craving had returned in the absence of touch, as though without Rivaini’s kisses to shield her, the ocean breeze was free to blow across her skin and deposit its grit. Her skin felt flushed and warm, all the way down to where the waves cooled her legs.

But soon enough she was back, sliding around Faolain like a big cat, pulling her close. Faolain let out a soft hmm as she was embraced, relieved to be back. There was bliss in the feeling of discomfort fleeing beneath the silver bay’s touch, in the feeling of rightness that chased away the itch of the salt and the craving. Faolain responded by sliding beneath Rivaini’s neck, slipping her damp skin against her companion’s as she circled the copper Guardian once before tucking herself once more within the possessive arch of her neck and coiling about Rivaini in her own embrace. She trailed her muzzle down Rivaini’s silver-topped crest, drawing a line of featherlight kisses down to her withers. “I have some ideas,” she said, her voice husky and muffled slightly by the press of skin against them, as if she were unwilling to pull away even enough to get the words out.

As she reached the gentle slope of the silver bay’s shoulders, she caught sight of a figure in the surf not far away, and paused.

It took a second for her to register that they had a visitor, and even when the black stallion spoke, Faolain did not really emerge from her intoxication. She made little response to his apology, save for one ear flicking lazily toward him, but at his following question she raised an eyebrow. She shouldn’t have been surprised - Snow had certainly given the impression of a bit of a goof when she first met him, and she had not disliked that particular quality. Even now, she found it more amusing than insulting, but she glanced to Rivaini to confirm her suspicions that the red mare did not share this opinion. The other Guardian was far more fiery of spirit than Faolain was, and this often manifested in displays of protectiveness - and possessiveness - that Faolain both admired and found endearing. She had never before known another to wish to keep her, either lovingly or greedily, and it sent a peculiar prickle down the black mare’s spine every time the silver bay stepped bodily between her and whatever might wish to harm her. It was unfamiliar, but not an unpleasant sensation, and Faolain often found herself hungrily tracing the muscular lines of her most loyal protector after every such occasion.

Even now, as Rivaini by chance stood between herself and Snow, Faolain felt a prickle at the base of her neck. She did not have to be pressed against her lover to know that Rivaini would be tensing as she noticed their visitor, and the black mare shivered in response. She was not particularly interested in anyone the way she was interested in Rivaini - she knew that some mares preferred stallions, some other mares, and some enjoyed both, but Faolain had begun to notice long ago that she did not experience the attraction that others did to anyone at all. And while Rivaini was an exception to this rule, Snow was not - but Snow caused all of the tightening of muscles in Rivaini that so enamored Faolain, and so she smiled at black stallion in the surf devilishly.

“Come find out,” she said, snapping her tail against her flanks, catching Rivaini’s skin beneath the stinging tips of hair. She nibbled on the base of her companion’s neck thoughtfully, trying half-heartedly to calm her, mostly just wanting to feel the powerful cords of muscle beneath her lips.

She was baiting Rivaini without shame, but it was such a delicious game. Faolain knew she should feel guilty, but in her drunken state of desire, she thought it better to ask forgiveness than permission.