Meadow
Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.
Posted on April 2, 2020 at 05:34:53 PM by Solomon
Solomon
Still, the girl does not speak. Her lips remain pressed together, her sound bottled inside and away from him. Solomon does not know why she denies him this, but it is only kindling to his need to win, somehow. He'd find a way to bring her home, a way to unlock her chest of secrets, if only for the pleasure of knowing what they were.
His green gaze follows the casual toss of her mane, and he wishes to reach up and brush the strands away from her face. To trace the curve of her cheek and trail up the slope of her shoulder. To scrape his blunted teeth over her wither and trail the curve of her ribcage down. He wanted to touch her, to press her against him until the chill of autumn was forgotten for the heat that they created together. Still, he refrains in favor of watching her taunt him, not yet tired of the novelty of a one sided conversation.
There's no push and pull of playful banter, the casual flirtation that has led him to cover far more than his fair share of mares this season. Perhaps this is why he can't look away from her face.
The girl shrugs and looks away from him shyly and he is once again left to interpret her actions. A part of him wonders if she is just a figment of his imagination. His muzzle rises infinitesimally, nostrils flaring as he senses a weakening in her. A yes that is left unspoken to the real question on his mind.
Solomon's gaze follows the mare as she turns away from him and he wouldn't lie, he thought about it. The tobiano could imagine casting off this sheep's clothing of casual conversation in favor of the reason for the season. He knows just how easy it would be to close the gap between their bodies and to press himself atop her and take his pleasure, but he does not. Wants to, but does not.
Instead, the beast settles for accepting her invitation. His large figure slows to match her pace once he's caught up to her and he reaches over the distance separating them to touch her shoulder, to establish that she is real and not just in his mind. His teeth press against his lips as he touches her skin, and he considers pressing a mark into her skin as though the girl had braved the Commons. But she has not, and he must still play nice.
He withdraws from her, and finally pays attention to the direction they are headed. Tinuvel and the Cove lay miles ahead in this direction, but it brings him back to what he wants of her. "I want you to come to the Cove with me."
His gaze returns to hers, gauging her reaction. Solomon wants a great deal of things from her, but this, he thinks, is the most important.
His green gaze follows the casual toss of her mane, and he wishes to reach up and brush the strands away from her face. To trace the curve of her cheek and trail up the slope of her shoulder. To scrape his blunted teeth over her wither and trail the curve of her ribcage down. He wanted to touch her, to press her against him until the chill of autumn was forgotten for the heat that they created together. Still, he refrains in favor of watching her taunt him, not yet tired of the novelty of a one sided conversation.
There's no push and pull of playful banter, the casual flirtation that has led him to cover far more than his fair share of mares this season. Perhaps this is why he can't look away from her face.
The girl shrugs and looks away from him shyly and he is once again left to interpret her actions. A part of him wonders if she is just a figment of his imagination. His muzzle rises infinitesimally, nostrils flaring as he senses a weakening in her. A yes that is left unspoken to the real question on his mind.
Solomon's gaze follows the mare as she turns away from him and he wouldn't lie, he thought about it. The tobiano could imagine casting off this sheep's clothing of casual conversation in favor of the reason for the season. He knows just how easy it would be to close the gap between their bodies and to press himself atop her and take his pleasure, but he does not. Wants to, but does not.
Instead, the beast settles for accepting her invitation. His large figure slows to match her pace once he's caught up to her and he reaches over the distance separating them to touch her shoulder, to establish that she is real and not just in his mind. His teeth press against his lips as he touches her skin, and he considers pressing a mark into her skin as though the girl had braved the Commons. But she has not, and he must still play nice.
He withdraws from her, and finally pays attention to the direction they are headed. Tinuvel and the Cove lay miles ahead in this direction, but it brings him back to what he wants of her. "I want you to come to the Cove with me."
His gaze returns to hers, gauging her reaction. Solomon wants a great deal of things from her, but this, he thinks, is the most important.
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