Chapter 44: Frost at Dawn, Embers at Touch
The witch's fluttering eyes met the early dawn, the room smelled a mix of dried ink and sweat, her chests hollowed out as her lips tasted of spiced fire. Her iced fingers curled into mattress, the softness sinking in to write a letter of frost for her firery dragon beside her, the arm's reach to her back a provacation for the smooth line of her spine, adorned with golden jewels of scales for the path untraced.
Obeying her instinct, the dragon's wife reached out, last night's intimacy scarred deep into her fingers, the cherry's sensation humming a tipsy sweetness on her fingertips. As if the scaled spine would soothe the ashen passion that bathed in the last moonlight, the quivering finger traced another arc to seek again the longing crescent upon another voyage of heated passion.
The voyager, that once drew glimmers of frosty livings and castles, now drew a purposeless edge on her husband's spine, a stroke on the scaled canvas with no detours, no hesitation that belied their last night. All voyagers started from the bottom, too afraid to sink further below as it climbed upwards, the gently careful mapping a path that laid clearly and needed no scouting, as it finally crossed the boundary that is the spine, before expanding outwards, mirroring her own life of retirement as she raised a hero as prideful as her.
And...it ended on the shoulder, the nail tipping at the shoulder, the awaken's privillege over the destination of an asleep dragon that hoarded treasure. A chuckle escaped her lips, curiosity bloomed in her as she raised her head, a peek of the caretaker that once stroke heated arcs that embered her garden's petal.
The stillness of the treasure hoarder, however, was not of sleepiness but a calmness for the wicked pervertness, as a hushed voice brushed her ears, just as an dawn's wind would a curtain.
"Awake, my love?"
Demond widened her eyes, the path that once laid out to her flipped over, replaced by bulgeness centred around a sweet fruit. A blush crept up to her cheeks, smoke steaming from her head, as she gritted her teeth, the hitched breath of last night clamping away at her brain.
"...well well, s-satisfy my curiosity more would you?" The white doors to her lips once again loosened, as the witch sighed at her husband's playfulness, ever one step ahead of her.
"Your willingness to explore the unknown impresses me, Demond. How could this peacekeeper not entertain you?" The dragon smiled, the lips that once granted her respite spoke of only tickly tease that probed at the witch's exasperation. Huffing, the witch turned her back, her own path tempting the dragon's claim.