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Samhain has passed.
Val's gray eyes darkened, not in anger but with that something she had seen before and could not name.
She thought she knew now what the look meant. She felt his member swell against her thigh. And now
she knew that the wetness between her legs meant she was ready for him. Her heart thumped against her
ribs, drowning out all sound. She felt like First Mare last night, unable to resist Slepnir. Except now was
not last night, and she still could not resist Val.
He brushed his lips across her neck. Pony shuddered along her whole body. But the gooseflesh that ran
down her left arm and leg could not distract her from her fascination with the way Val's wavy hair
dropped over his muscled shoulder when he bent to kiss her, or the way that muscle bunched and rippled
under his silken skin. "Pony," he breathed into her ear, and his breath seeped into her soul, tempting her,
luring her on toward something she had not known until last night.
She rolled into him, her nipples brushing his chest, then pressing into the curling hairs of their own accord.
His thigh captured hers. The feel of its thick muscles clenching against her was a sweet threat. Her breath
shuddered in and out as his arm enfolded her. He was fully erect. His member pressed against her belly
and she pressed back. A roaring in her ears blotted out the world's sound. "Val," she might have
murmured.
One of his rare smiles lit his face with tenderness. It was so strange to see his features changed as if by
magic into those of someone who looked forward expecting wondrous events, not backward at pain and
hard experience. Did predators look like that? Could she have been mistaken about him? She lifted her
lips to his, just brushing them, wondering where she found the strength not to clutch at him, or scream for
him to take her immediately. His lips sought hers again, and this time he tilted his head and explored her
mouth more fully. When his tongue slipped inside and ran around her lips she was shocked and delighted.
She returned the gesture and felt him tremble under her hands on his back. He thrust his tongue against
her teeth, urging them to part. His groans of need were drawn into her lungs with each gasping breath.
But his hands moved over her body with great deliberation. His callused palms, hardened from battle,
roved from her back to her backside, pressing her against him.
She touched his erection, eager to pull him inside her. Gently, he shook his head. "I want this not like last
night," he whispered softly.
"Why?" she asked, taken aback.
"There is another Language of Touch," was all he would say. Instead, he pressed her hip away, her left
thigh still his prisoner, so that her knees were opened as she rolled to her back, naked to the morning air.
She felt exposed, her most private parts available for use. But it did not feel wrong or bad. Her private
parts should be used, must be used, again and again, often, now.
Val seemed in no hurry, though. His hand explored her body, cupped her breast, ran over the ridges of
her ribs, lingered over her hipbone before descending to stroke her thighs. Then he did a most surprising
thing. He touched her wetness and rubbed it up and down with his middle two fingers. Pony was suffused
with tingling. Her world drew down to a single point between her legs. She spread her knees wider,
opening herself even farther to him as sensation flooded in. She arched her pelvis against his hand,
making his soft caresses serve the demands that were growing in her. She could not think, couldn't hear,
could do aught but long for release. Her body was a tumultuous cacophony of sensation.
"Pony, my Pony," he whispered in her ear. It sounded far away. Then his mouth was suckling her nipples.
The sweet drawing of his lips pushed her over some edge she had not known was ahead of her and she
cried out, bucking against Val's hand as her body jerked with contractions so powerful she thought there
might be some spirit inside her fighting to get out. On and on the sensation beat across her in waves, until
she clenched her face and shrieked. At the apex of her shriek she jerked away from Val's hand.
"You are the death of me," she whispered, shaking her head violently from side to side, as though to
shake the fit from her body. At last her breath gave out, and her head lolled back. Her senses started
creeping back.
The first sensation to assault her was the hard rod of Val's erection throbbing against her thigh. His need
was not yet assuaged. Languid as she was, she could not deny him his own release, since she knew
firsthand how demanding his body must be. It would like to drive him mad if he got no release. Or
perhaps it would drive him mad to get it. She was mad, for certain. A surge of life seemed to pool within
her, not in spite of her release, but because of it. She pulled at his shoulder, smiling, urging him atop her.
He crawled between her open thighs, holding the weight of his torso off her with his elbows.
Pony's hands moved around to the swell of his buttocks. His member pushed at her, begging entrance.
Staring into his gray eyes dark with need, she pressed him into her, gasping as she did. She was lifted
from the cloaks as he took her in his arms, then he pulled out and thrust inside her again.
She could see him try to restrain himself. He stroked in and out once more, slowly. But his need had
been denied too long in favor of her own. A moment later he clutched her to his chest and she matched
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