I love you more in my head
but I’ll love you better when I’m dead
⬡ ⬡ ⬡
You don’t seem surprised to see me, the copper stallion said as she sidled close to him. Naydra gave him a cheshire grin. “Well, I didn’t know for sure,” she said, voice husky and low. Inviting. “But I certainly hoped.”
The nameless stallion’s scent was deliciously masculine, as carefully alluring as his voice and his movements. He was calculative, but graceful and confident; an untrained eye may have mistaken him for little more than a playboy, an angelically handsome stallion with charisma and an appetite. When Naydra looked at him, however, she recognized bits of him that she knew reflected herself. It was like looking into a broken mirror. She could not see every layer of him, every driving force behind his orchestrated body language, nor could she truly gauge the depth of his cunning and danger. All she knew was that he was dangerous, and should she choose to slip into the waters of his malevolence, Naydra’s delicately feathered hooves would not touch the bottom.
As she pulled daintily away, the bronze stallion did not leave her wanting. He took her invitation, coiling around her like a great shining snake, the sunset igniting the warm tones of his coat and turning the white of his splashed markings into a soft ivory. Naydra had not taken an interest in him solely for his appearance, but the coal-black mare could not deny that he was visually appealing as well as physically impressive. She could not fathom what plans he had for her, but she had plans for him as well, and she was willing to consider this a… well, a transaction of sorts. She saw the potential for a mutually beneficial relationship, and she suspected the details need not be discussed. He was intelligent, and would certainly puzzle out whatever use she found for him, and likewise Naydra would figure out whatever plans he had for her.
It was a dance, and Naydra loved it. She indulged in it, leaning against the lion-man daintily, her white-gold tail swishing against his hindquarters, mingling with his own tail; ivory mixing with crimson. “You’ll never guess what my favorite time of day is,” she said with a musical laugh, her head coming to lean companionably against his neck. To an outsider, they probably made a scene from a fairy-tail romance. But within the two of them, dragons uncoiled and met each other’s smoldering gaze, appraising one another and coming to wordless agreements. Black and copper scales shifted and slithered, feeling the heat of the other, coiling closer, closer.
Naydra’s neck arched, and she brought her lips to the stallion’s chest. She drew little circles in the sooty, white-patched fur, working her way up to his throat. Another invitation.
Naydra
mare. 16hh. silver black. rougaru x visurix.
