CW: Mention of SA ideation

Somehow, despite the odds, I am successful in touching her. In pressing the forbidden silk of her skin against my teeth, my tongue. In drawing in the scent of her into my lungs where it unfurls like a stoked flame.

Gods be damned, I like her. It doesn't make sense, given that I don't truly like anyone. If pressed, I might have to admit to liking Hiyori and even Vogue, but Khar'pern? It was foolish on my part. I was the Lagoon's marauder. I was a leader, an elected leader. I had no business fraternizing with the Peak's women in any capacity beyond delivering well-deserved retribution for their crimes against us.

And yet.

She freezes beneath my lips, signaling the end of a game I hadn't known we were playing. I won't lie - the sudden capitulation does catch me off guard, but I am not the sort of stallion who does not capitalize on his victories, even when they are accidental. My ears, which had pinned when she'd started sassing, prick forward momentarily and a rumbling, deep sort of chuckle unfurls from my chest as she claims I am too talkative.

"Just for you," I purr, pitching my voice low, my eyes still dark as I try to sidle close to her again, drunk on the scent of her. "I'll keep my lips occupied elsewhere then."

It is a challenge as much as it is a warning, a chance for her to skitter away if she pleases. Perhaps I could just take what I wanted. I wasn't morally opposed to it, but I was entranced with the idea that she wanted it too. That she might not be any more able to resist me than I was to resist her. And the thought of the mighty Khar'pern wanting me, of having to admit to herself that she wanted me, was a drug far more enticing than anything else.

I seek to touch her again, still trying to press close, although I do not press my luck to try for her throat. Instead, I reach for her shoulder, for the sweep of her collarbone. For the tender skin at the point of her elbow. For the thin flesh over the ribs I'd just run into. And while perhaps it would be nicer of me to touch gently, I am not a gentle creature. And so each touch - if I manage any of them at all - is both pain and pleasure, a nip and a gentle kiss.

Reminding us both that, for all my faults, I am not all monster.

Stallion - Young Adult - 15.2 - Brown Overo