tell the wolves I'm home
“I did like the thought of sunrise,” he rumbled; though not disclosing why. If the glowing beacon matched her tresses as the water interplayed upon the surface, he wouldn’t say – eyes already narrowing to study and transfix again, almost forgetting to listen to the next suggestion as she moved to straddle him. There was another harsh intake of breath that nearly promised they wouldn’t be leaving the bed anytime soon, an undulation along his abdomen to follow, and then the crooning hunger that betrayed everything. “Gives us time for other things.”
What hour was it now anyway? He couldn’t tell and hadn’t looked and something about all of that lack of structure piqued in the restlessness…and then he had to let it go. Being unrestrained, unbothered, was a whole other platitude of uncertainty, and he’d face that head on too. No soldiers to train or bark at. No missives to write. No threats to conquer. Instead, his fingers wove away from her hair and down her calf, roaming inconsequentially; before a grunt of agreement followed. “Fine,” though he made no maneuver to actually begin moving – machinations beginning a roughened start on simultaneous and ulterior directions.
What hour was it now anyway? He couldn’t tell and hadn’t looked and something about all of that lack of structure piqued in the restlessness…and then he had to let it go. Being unrestrained, unbothered, was a whole other platitude of uncertainty, and he’d face that head on too. No soldiers to train or bark at. No missives to write. No threats to conquer. Instead, his fingers wove away from her hair and down her calf, roaming inconsequentially; before a grunt of agreement followed. “Fine,” though he made no maneuver to actually begin moving – machinations beginning a roughened start on simultaneous and ulterior directions.
the ressurected sword
