The Barn

[Light Ice]

He would never really have a home here. It wasn't his place. There were bits of property left, sure, but he only ever stayed her for moments at a time. The need came from the realization that in -her- house there were certain lines he couldn't cross. Sometimes, with a hammer nearby, you just wanted to tear something down and rebuild it. The Mansion wasn't the place for that.

It wasn't the place for some of his appetites, either.

Strange, really, to outgrow a place he'd come to enjoy. That was probably why he'd never truly leave. He was, essentially, squatting on her property. The barn was built by his hands and a month of effort but it hadn't been paid for. The lot wasn't his. Neither were the Maids but he'd still need of those.




The Barn and Stables

The Barn itself was a massive thing. Twelve stalls, all filled. It was some small gesture to Cait that he'd keep her stables so long as she didn't throw him out of the place. There was never really an agreement struck between the two. He simply lived on the fringe of her understanding. They functioned that way.

It had been built of white oak timber that'd been pressure-treated. Concrete had been poured and laid. When it was done the twelve that were his choice had been given fine homes.


Above the stalls lay a hayloft and besides them a tack room. The rafters were visible, massive oaken beams, and the walls stout planks of pressure-treated hardwood. It was built with the meticulous and perfecting hand of his nature. It smelled of life and work and earth.

The loft apartment that was his own was accessible by a twisting black-iron stair that was as narrow as it was steep in incline. It wound upwards in the very back of the barn to an addition that was attached but not a-part-of the barn itself. The room smelled of sandalwood and bayrum. The walls were drywalled and painted. It was traditional, not modern, and cluttered with antiques of Colonial influence and a few of older celtic roots. There was room enough that the four-post ebonwood bed was swallowed up, massive as it was, and the walk-in closet seemed small. A master bathroom suite was attached with a large, eight-foot triangle tub and nearby shower stall.

He was indulgent. Always had been.

And in the back of the bedroom another twisting stair laid down to a room sealed off by a trapdoor. It was locked.

The Animals

Rusher (Tennessee Walking Horse = Stallion - 9 Years Old) - Exclusive to Light Ice

Storm (Arabian Thoroughbred = Gelding - 5 Years Old) - Exclusive to DarkWarrioress

Grace (Thoroughbred = Mare - 5 Years Old)

 

[RainingHeat]

It was the horses that attracted her. She had befriended Cait, the beautiful Lady of the Mansion, found her to be a kindred spirit of sorts and very much enjoyed her company. On this fine day, a walk taken to visit the Lady, it was the nickering, the snorting, of the horses that caught her attention and detoured her to the large Barn.

She had only just stepped in, when the midnight black, simply magnificent animal in the very 1st stall caught her attention. He was nothing short of spectacular, and that praise shone in her eyes. In the next, the painted. Another stunning horse. And that was only the first two stalls. The place was filled with them.

She had nothing to offer them, tho she made a note in the back of her mind to bring apples next time. Fresh, crisp apples.

A brush of fingers into and thru her dark hair as she stood, almost hypnotized, admiring....

 

[Light Ice]

He descended from the main house, her place, without any obligation until he saw her. There was that moment when a man admired a woman, caught her shape and her look, and kept it to himself. He was fortunate her attention lay on the animals, fortunate that she hadn't caught his look. His charm wasn't in small talk. He took the moment for what it was and slipped inward.

"Black one is Cait's."

There wasn't much work to be done now and so he indulged her, vanishing into a tack room and returning with a pair of apples. The first he uncerimoniously tossed to her.

She was beautiful and she had wandered into his place. It was enough to distract him from the black blur of a dog as it raced to greet him. The impact as it curled into his leg and wagged its tail stole his attention. His calloused fingers ran briskly through the dogs short tight, curly hair. It smiled with a pink tongue wagging, brown eyes loving up at him shamelessly.

"You're a shameless hussy, Agatha." He said to the dog.

She just wagged her tail fiercely and was not offended.

 

[RainingHeat]

"Black one is Cait's."

She had heard someone coming down stairs, or thought she had. That was confirmed by the voice. She could easily see the Lady of the Mansion charming the large, gorgeous black horse.

"he is stunning" she commented again, pulling her eyes from the animal, just in time to see an apple sailing in her direction. Her reflexes were good tho, and she got her hand up in time to easily capture it. Just as it settled into her grasp, a black blur went charging past.

The dog barreled into the man, obviously it belonged to him and it was as beautiful as the horses that surrounded them. Her green eyes sparkled as she watched his interaction with the dog. You can tell alot about a person by how they treat the animals around them.

"You're a shameless hussy, Agatha."

That brought a giggle from her..

"And she loves it" she added, tossing the apple up and catching it.

"I am Rain, by the way, and your horses, the dog, and the barn, are all just.... striking"

 

[Light Ice]

He nodded. Short on words. It was a perpetual problem. He'd loved language his entire life but within the scope of his experiences it'd always fled him. The day was warm and sunny, blue skies pristine with only a few clouds. She spoke of beauty. He wanted to compliment her. Instead, he straightened from his lady and let her wander to the newcomer with an obvious sweetness.

The dog was twice as charming, and flirtatious, as he'd ever be.

"I'm LI." he replied. "Do you ride?"

Rusher moved within his stable at the word. The animal, powerful and large, looked down its blunted muzzle towards him intently. He knew that look. In his focus to build the damn place he'd neglected riding. The animal had that heavy, purposeful look in his almond eyes.

Between that and the beautiful stranger in his barn the quiet of his day was turning with the promise of trouble.

 

[RainingHeat]

With a smile, she extended her free hand as the dog approached, tail wagging. It was always good to let a new dog get the scent of you, and she was careful to not come overtop of the dog's head in a threatening manner. Instead, palm up, she came almost from underneath, and could not stop her laugh when the cold nose tickled her palm, the tail wildly wagging.

With a laugh she then went to her knees in the straw, and gathered up the animal in warm embrace. The apple set down for a moment, she let the slender fingers of both hands scritch, scratch, stroke thru the tight, curly fur. It reminded her of a Portuguese Water Dog, and she wondered if she were pure or not.

"Is she a purebred? The fur reminds me of the Portuguese Water Dog breed, with this tight, curly coat"... Now she was patting up under the chin, the tongue languidly sticking out as she panted and enjoyed the attention.

"I'm LI." "Do you ride?"

She had to grin almost mischievously at that question. The naughtiest of answers popped into her head, only to be cast back out.. Horses... you naughty girl.. he meant horses...

"It is very nice to meet you LI, and to meet your number one girl here, Agatha.. " she got back to her feet, rising in one fluid motion, apple once more in hand.

At the word ride, she heard the rustling and heavy footfalls of the Painted.

"I think he certainly wants a ride" she smiled, "as for me, it has been a while, but yes, I do" Her eyes quickly search the barn and alight on a small knife that is sticking up in a stool close by. Winking, she moves over there, grasps the knife, and deftly slices the very juicy apple in half. The knife placed back, she lays one half of the apple in her palm, then approaches the stall with the Painted within.

"May I?" the apple lain in her palm.. waiting....

 

[Light Ice]

Watching her with Agatha warmed him. There were few things that ever inspired him to feel tender. It was an almost private thing and he liked to keep it that way. Here, amidst the barn though, there were too many animals that he cared for to really keep it hidden. The dog was his partner in all things. She, a Labradoodle, was as much trouble as anyone could manage and twice as good a dog. To see her roll into the embrace of the stranger, now poised softly on her knees, was enough to force a smile to tug at his thin lips.

This girl was definitely trouble.

"She's a Labradoodle. I just like to keep her hair real short."

It gave her a strange look. The dog from the side was all Labrador. Deep chest. Powerful legs. She'd a long, sleek back and thick tail that wagged constantly. He'd never known a happier animal. It worked as a foil, in ways, against his otherwise dour nature. People found him prickly on his best day. Agatha won everyone's heart in moments.

From the front she was all Poodle until that tongue came out. Jet-black, too, save a tuft of chestnut on her nose. She was forty pounds of puppy a year and a half old. He loved her helplessly.

He watched her cut the apple and found his eyes straying briefly from the work itself to the deftness in her hands. Small hands. A woman's hands with slender fingers. They looked soft. Not like his own. It almost made him self-conscious and he looked down at his own paws with a brief scrutiny. They were large, mitt-like, with powerful fingers. They were also marred with heavy callouses, knuckles that had been broken and healed long years ago were ugly and gnarled.

"If I don't let you give him that he'll throw me for sure." He remarked.

It wasn't a joke, though. He and the horse had a begrudged respect between them with only thin hints of warmth beneath it. They were both too stubborn to mesh entirely. It was always possible that they'd have a bit of a row on a ride.

He left her if only not to stare. She was gentle. Feminine. He'd had naught but Cait's maids as company and they were simpering girls. They satisfied his baser needs. Always left him wanting. Instead, he found himself moving silently into the stalls beyond. He'd hoped she rode Western. His animals were all trained to loose-reign and while he'd a mind to get a few English in the barn it hadn't happened, yet.

He selected for Rain a beautiful Chestnut mare with Thoroughbred lines named "Grace". The horse, approaching five, was quite young. Still, while not for fledgling riders, he would be there and Grace was one of the most gentle animals he had in his care. She had been learning quickly and while still prone to going quick on him (she loved to run), she was easy to correct.

He called her to the door with a whistle and soon had her out to be dressed. The saddle was swept back and supple, cherry-colored leather. He was already working with the girth and cinch when he looked back.

"He likes women. You'll be fine." He encouraged.

 

[RainingHeat]

"If I don't let you give him that he'll throw me for sure."

"Ah, a horse that knows what he wants" she remarked, lifting her hand with the apple to the magnificent painted stallion. The lips were so tickling soft when he took the offered treat, that she could not help but laugh again, a memory of long ago coming to her, when she had approached a horse, as a child, with a dress on that had a carrot on the front. The horse had thought the carrot real and reached out and grabbed the front of her dress. It had scared her at the time, until she understood what was happening, and made her laugh even now, as this one crunched the apple contentedly (True story, that really happened to me and was quite funny).

A sideways glance given over to LI.. "Why do I get the feeling that you, would expect nothing less of this stallion, or any that you train and ride?" she canted her head with a smile.

She offered the other half of the apple to Cait's Black, before returning back to the Painted, reaching up and running her fingers along his long nose, feeling the warmth, the strength.

"what do you call him?"

She imagined a powerful name, a fast name, one that surely fit such a stallion as this.

When she turned, she beheld a gorgeous chestnut mare, not as big as the Painted or the Black, but as muscled and sleek. Already she liked the look in the horse's eyes as LI finished readying her, and moreso, she liked the look in his eyes while he did so, and the look that crossed his face. He truely loved these animals, and that, drew her even more to him.

"What a stunning chestnut color" she commented as she approached, reaching up to glide fingers thru the mane of the mare, meeting LI's gaze as she did so.

"it is a perfect day for a ride, that's for sure"

 

[Light Ice]

He'd always prided himself on being urbane. Born, and raised, in the heart of the largest city in the United States it'd seemed natural for him to grow up amidst the hustle of the concrete jungle. But, as time had gone on, he'd slipped further and further from home and further and further towards the country. The life appealed to him. To his nature. It was quiet and diligent and above all things it was honest. Here, now, he'd let it come to a head and embraced it entirely.

Training horses had been a hobby. He'd been kidding himself.

"This is Grace." He said.

And then she met his eyes.

It'd always been his wish to have green eyes. Or blue eyes, like his grandfather, that were nearly gray and stunning and capable of swooning women with their strength. Genetics had been cruel, though, and denied him either. His eyes were hazel and at times sandy-colored. Deceptively soft. They gave a gentleness to otherwise wolfish features. His face was cut with sharp jawlines, squared at the chin and proud. His nose was anglo. Skin fair.

Agatha trotted past with a ruin of a Tennis ball in her mouth. He bent and snagged it from her, rose in a fluid motion, and cast it far into the yard with a cannon of a shot. His girl took off in a black blur after it, quick as could be, streaking on in a puff of trail dust before she hit the meadow's grass.

"And this," He cast a wary eye to his horse. "Is Rusher."

The animal shied from the door silently as he drew it open. There was a moment where he stood there, before the animal, and simply sized it up. Stallions were always a bit of a handful. Rusher, though, was special. The animal's ferocious temper was sharpened with an absolute stubbornness. The two were too similar. Every day was a battle of wills.

So far, thankfully, he'd come out on top.

Rusher, to his credit, didn't give him a hard time. Instead, he came out and let himself get dressed. He was glad to take his eyes from the girl for a moment, though the vision of her lingered as he fit the tack to Rusher's broad back. The animal's strength was rippling. It had presence. He handled the animal steadily before looking past its proud shoulder to the girl known as Rain.

"Do you need help?" He meant getting into the saddle. Words abandoned him so readily now the brevity of his dialogue had become a near pseudo language. His eyes tracked to her animal to clarify.

 

[RainingHeat]

She watched the dog shoot out after that cannon ball, which was all she could think when he pitched it out there the way he did. It was quite the picturesque scene with the black of the dog against the green of the grass. Idyllic. County.. very country. She could hear Agatha playfully growling at the ball as she fetched it. Just adorable.

"And this," He cast a wary eye to his horse. "Is Rusher."

"Rusher" she repeated the name, liking the way it rolled off the tongue. A perfect name for the powerful Stallion, she thought.

Rain quietly watched as he opened the stall, and saw immediately that dominance, in this situation, was a 2 way street. She had no doubt that LI would win, but she also could see that was because Rusher, perhaps allowed him to. It was quite interesting to watch, from the stand off right at the beginning, to Rusher advancing and deigning to be dressed for riding.

The animal was practically straining to get out of that barn and run.

She, having been lucky enough this day to dress in black jeans, a white tee and sneakers, tied back her long dark hair into a pony tail. It had been longer, until she had gotten tired of it and had it cut. Never again, she was going to let it grow out again, that was that. With green eyes and her italian heritage, her dark hair was thick and wavy, she just wanted it longer once more, a fact that she grumbled about when she did tie it back.

"Hello Grace" she said as she laid her hand to the mare's shoulder. She wanted her to get used to her touch, and the sound of her voice. "I am Rain, and I promise to take care of you, and you can take care of me." she glanced over to LI and Rusher "Maybe we an give those 2 a run for their money, whaddya say??" her voice laughing..

"Do you need help?"

"Nope, I am all set" she nodded in thanks to him as she hopped up into the saddle. She was not quite as agile as she used to be when a kid, but the mare was not the monster the stallion was, so mounting her was easy. Settling, she took the reins in hand. It had been awhile, but it was like riding a bike, and Grace and her seemed to have a chemistry...

 

[Light Ice]

He watched. She moved. There was something intimate in watching a woman put her hair up. It was such a casual part of their life that it could easily be overlooked. In that instant, that moment, she became utterly girlish. Something stirred in him. He knew it. It'd been his intention to fight it but watching her made it impossible. The distraction was enough for him to lose track of Rusher and he paid for it. Subtly. The big animal abruptly buried its nose under his arm and flipped it upward, ungently, in quiet challenge.

Pushing the rifle's heavy stock out of the way, he took hold of Rusher's saddle by the horn and slid up.

The animal snorted heavily. Derisively. And strained beneath him, eager to start. Still, he firm-handed him and guided him around in a lazy circle back towards her. Rain, on Grace, was a good fit. They looked gorgeous together. The strong hand he held on the reign kept Rusher from investigating the mare too much.

Something struck him, something intense. For a moment, rounding back to Rain's side, he felt Rusher's urgency ripple through him. Want coiled deep in his belly, knotting it up, making it sharp as he saw her there. The animal beneath him gave another whicker before it sidestepped closer.

"He likes her. We better get moving."

He knew the feeling.

 

[RainingHeat]

It was not lost on her that the Painted Stallion was a bit.. aroused. And getting moreso by the minute.

"He likes her. We better get moving."

Rain turned to regard LI for a moment. He, himself, looked magnificent upon the large, strong Stallion. For a minute, she got a romance novel type picture in her mind, he being the handsome hero atop the wild stallion. What movie was that, Romancing the Stone, yes that one, with the rugged handsome, naughty hero. The thought could only make her smile, it was one of her favorite movies. Only he, was even more handsome, atop his stallion.

"I agree, let's go" she gave the mare just a hint of pressure along her sides, her own body leaning forward. It was as if they were already in tune, the sleek horse neighing and taking off at a fast pace, easily heading out of the barn and into the same meadow where, Agatha, still waiting, barking happily, tail wagging.

"Well.. are you coming?" she playfully called out behind her.. lookong to see the Painted come charging out of the barn. God that was a awe inspiring horse...

 

[Light Ice]

This life was a simple and satisfying life. It was lived in the scents of earth, heather, and cedar. It was lived in the way Grace melded to her heart and found a companion there. They coaxed from themselves the freedom of a run. In the blur of chestnut and white, a mix of Grace's coat and the understated seduction of Rain's T, he found the beauty he had attempted to capture by coming here. It was a natural and earthy thing. Pure.

The dichotomy that it presented was obvious.

For all of its beauty, everything graceful about it, it was delicate. He had proven hard on all those close to him and the world entire. Ungentle. In his wake the ripples spread outward and far to disturb all that nature had set to order. He was an interloper here. The life suited him but he did not belong. It was a hard and honest life and he was such a man. Like the horse, in many ways, it did not yield. It never would.

And that's why it was so satisfying.

Rusher urged to go but he fought it for a moment. He let the animal beneath him grow knotted with displeasure, breathing in heavy snorts through wide-flaring nostrils. Furious. Impatient. He let the broad muscled shoulders and back beneath his saddle tighten and bristle, let the quarters coil with intent, and waited until the animal's frustrations brought it to the very brink of madness before he clicked gently with his tongue.

"Go." He said.

And the magnificent horse that was his own exploded out of the barn in a sudden and incredible flurry of movements. There was, in that instant, the perfection of pure power. It charged on unheeded. It gained ground. The great hooves betrayed surprising grace as it found sure places to put them and never lost stride. Life aboard Rusher, for all its impetuous and stubborn strength, could not have been an easier or more thrilling ride. The animal's gait, even at a gallop was gorgeous and sure.

Agatha abandoned her ball, one of many things to which he'd given to be hers, and took off with them. Sleek. Strong. She could not, however, pace the horses. Instead, barking happily, she took pleasure in a chase she could not hope to win. It was her in an instant. She took joy in all things, loved entirely, and was ever satisfied. There was no need to fret. The dog was capable. She'd find her home in the barn and play until he returned.

But for now she ran, losing ground behind him, and he charged after the beautiful stranger aboard one of his horses. Steadily gaining.

Catching her was inevitable.

His blood ran hot and pulsed sharply through his veins.

And he wanted.

 

[RainingHeat]

She could hear the charging horse behind her, as well as she could hear her own as she moved, Rain urging her on, faster and faster. The smaller mare was quick, sleek, supple, heart thundering, muscled legs sure footed as she moved. The feeling beneath her was incredible, and one that Rain had not felt in a long time. She lowered, letting her body almost mold to the mares's making her more aerodynamic, allowing her more speed.

The wind whipped, the sounds of her horse, the gaining stallion, and just the world in and of itself came together.

She did not know the area well, but it was open and easy to find the best pathways to allow the horses the pleasure of running at full steam, even if just for a little while. Wasn't there a river, perhaps even a waterfall at some point? Perhaps? It would be the perfect place to water the horses after such a hard run, even if the run had only just begun..

She took a glance behind her. The Stallion was easily gaining, the mare no match for the more powerful male. That was ok, she would still give him a run for his money, she coaxing the smaller horse to turn, moving out of the field, into the loose wood. No danger for the animal, it was not densely packed, but the smaller mare would move with a fluid ease thru here, as opposed to the larger male..


"Come and get me" she called out again behind her. Even if he could not hear, the playful challenge on her face was evident.. as was the wide smile.

 

[Light Ice]

He heard a sound. A voice. Sweet, soft, and sharp on the wind as it reached his ears. There was a challenge on her face and a happiness, too. It made her beautiful to see the different shades and exotic to see the way the wind took her dark ponytail. She found the treeline with her mare and it went with her willingly, sensing what it was to be chased and unwilling to surrender entirely.

Rusher went with them, still a few lengths behind. The large stallion did not give ground but could not take it, either. Clever girl. He fought the urge to smile. Set his jaw, instead. That hard jaw. The one that gave his face a hint of what women called handsome.

But he could ride and Rusher could run.

If they went on they'd hit the creek. It ran a winding course through the woods and separated them into two distinct halves. They enjoyed the softer woods now. Maples, Hemlocks, and Oaks. Further on the woods grew darker. Beautiful and terrible, too. The woods beyond turned dense and unfit for riding freely. They were thick and towering pines. Old and sure.

He imagined them at the creek. His mind, a man's mind, twisting to dark and wondrous things. She, bent supple across the mare's back, could just as easily be twisted under his hands.

And he'd the hands for it.

 

[RainingHeat]

She heard the snorts of the horses, felt the pounding of hooves, both the mare's and the stallion. She wondered for the moment if the mare were in heat, if that spurred that large male horse to run even faster, even harder, to catch the prize. The trees flew by yet the mare never wavered, her footing was sure and true. Rain dared another peek over her shoulder, they were right there, not gaining, but certainly staying with. The light foliage afforded the mare the quickness she had, as opposed to speed, the stallion had it over her when it came to speed.

She thought she heard the echo of running water. And a moment later, they, she and the mare, burst thru some brush, and the stream was before them, the cool water cascading on it's never ending trek toward the ocean some distance away. It would have a long trip to it's destination, that was for sure. They were out of site of the stallion and rider for mere moments, and she took advantage, coaxing the mare into the shadows, she hopping down and keeping her quiet for the moment. She would let her drink, she just wanted to await the arrival of the stallion and his rider, forst. As she stood for that brief second, she realized she were a bit warm, her skin as well as the mare's glistening with moisture, her tee lightly touching skin, and remaining.

The loud snort of the Stallion announced their arrival...

 

[Light Ice]

He let the reigns tighten in his battered hands, let them attempt to steer Rusher from his breakneck sprint to the quick walking gait his breed was known for but the animal fought him. It strained, lowering its head, snorting in derision as its breath came in a great charging rush from its lungs. The moment drew on as the land passed beneath them. They fought in that silent, intense way they always did.

And finally, without tugging on the reigns again, he won out.

Walking Rusher to the creek side, he reached with a hand to push branches from his way. There she was, sleek and soft, standing there while Grace bent and drank steadily beside her. In the light he saw the white of her T, beads of sweat on lean arms. The curve of her neck.

He hardly remembered dismounting. Swinging down from the saddle was nothing, letting the animal pass easy underneath him and beyond to the creek side. It saddled itself beside Grace, flanks touching, and drank beside her. It'd have been adorable if he'd seen it but his eyes never strayed from the girl.

For a moment he lingered, watching her. Letting her see his eyes rake across her softly-curved form with shameless intensity. He reached then to find a stray dark strand that'd found its way loose from her ponytail and tucked it behind her ear.

"You ride well."

 

[RainingHeat]

The mare drank deeply, as did the stallion. Both deserved it, they had run hard, but it had been good for them. A chance to air out the lungs, get the heart pumping, the heat going, to allow muscles to work, blood to flow, the mind to think.

She had watched him dismount, a movement that was pure strength, yet fluid. He reminded her of a gymnist, powerful and strong, but with a beauty and almost, supple motion that men like that had, every muscle moving in tandem. Just like the stallion. The 2 were well suited for each other, a lesser horse would buckle under the pressure he gave, a lesser man, would never control the wild streak the stallion harbored.

"You ride well."

His voice was soft, yet deep, and she found, she liked it. The baritone was pleasing. His eyes, well, those were a whole other story. Intense, as her own met his, she saw the shades of hazel green, almost seeming to mingle with a sandy brown. They swirled, the colors curling about one other. And they sparkled, with a fire that was lit deep inside. His eyes were expressive and as they roamed over her form, she could not help the blush that suddenly colored her cheeks. It was almost as if he had reached out and ran his hands down her body, and the tremor that lightly shook her was evidence of the effect it had on her. But, when he reached out and ever so gently set that errant dark strand back behind her ear, that was what brought the lowest of purrs to her lips.

That purr melting into words...

"Thank you. It's been a while, but I used to ride alot when I was younger. She, Grace, is a stunning horse, smart, quick, you are lucky to have her... You... LI... ride better tho. "

She turned then, not away from him, but to simply lower quickly and cup her hands in the cool water, taking a sip, the refreshing moisture flowing easily down her throat. "The water is so crisp and fresh" she commented, getting another handful and standing, offering him a sip, from her cupped hands.. "thirsty?"

 

[Light Ice]

It was earthy and seductive. There was no escaping it. In a moment, the sheer intensity of an instant, he bent and found the softness of her hands with his lips. They were thin. Masculine. He drank before straightening, water splashing some down his stubbled chin. Still, the taste of her skin lingered. It ripped through him, peeled at his restraint. She'd little idea what she was playing at. Unfair, maybe, to keep it concealed. Here, so far out from the Manse and help, she was at the disadvantage.

"You're beautiful." He said.

And meant it. There, beside the stream bed, he reached for her. Forward, he wasn't subtle. But still, unless she darted from him, he'd find the gentle arch of her hip under the strength of his hand and use it to draw her into the stretch of his embrace. It was strange to be so soft when it'd been so long. Still, she was a svelte thing and his strength had its place.

He wanted to kiss her. To bend and find her lips with his own. He imagined the feel of them, the taste. But, for now, there was only the sound of the water and the warmth of her under his hand.

 

[RainingHeat]

She laughed lightly as he indeed drank, and splashed some on himself in the process. That was to be expected tho, and in the heat of the day, she was sure the cool water felt good. But it was the feel of his lips that she focused on, as they brushed her soft palm. Rain could not help but wonder how those lips would feel gliding over other parts of her, the curve of her throat, her own moist teirs, suckling on a peaked nipple, kissing within the most intimate place upon her. The thought made that same blush of her cheeks deepen. Why was she thinking this way? What... what was it about him?

"You're beautiful."

When he reached for her, she did not move away, did not twist, did not dart. His hand came to rest upon the curve of her hip and as she was drawn to him, she stepped into the embrace, letting her feminine form meet his, curves and softness finding, and pressing against strenght and power. Her breathing caught for a moment, then exhaled in a quiet vibration that rippled thru her, and against him.

"thank you... " she quietly answered as she took in his masculine scent, it curling around her, possessive, touching every inch of her. Her height allowed her to nuzzle just under his chin, along the curve of his own throat and as she spoke the words, that is just what she did, letting her breath speak, fluttering over the sweat dampened skin.

 

[Light Ice]

When she drew near to him, sank into him, parts of him stripped back and fell away. There was only so much his restraint might take. Only so much, in truth, he cared for it to. It was a strange twist of traits that he had been dealt to wrestle with. The one, coiled within him, drew the strength ready in his rugged arms and the broad-shouldered taper of his back and chest for when it let free. A sudden, explosive expression of the primal that all men sought to satisfy had taken some great and powerful hand in him when he was still small. It'd only grown since those days. The other, though, was as indulgent as anything. It soaked up the small pleasures.

There was the smell of her over the cedar of the wood and the freshness of the creek. He could smell liniment on the horses, mint-sharp and beneath it the earthy embrace of their leather saddles and the sheep-skin pads beneath them.

But, beyond all this, he was tactile. She was svelte and lean against the hard course of his body. Soft. Breasts yielded to the hard plane of his broad chest, molding to them hotly through the thin fabric of her shirt and the healthy weathered cotton of his flannel. Under his hands, through the denim, her hips gentle round yielded to the pressure of his fingers. She let herself get swallowed in his sinuously-muscled arms as they coiled about her. One low around that trim middle and the swell of her full hipline. The other higher, dragging a strong hand up the line of her graceful spine. She breathed deeply, chest pressing tight to chest, and his prick came alive in a sudden urgency. Hardened, thickened down the length of his thigh until it was trapped swollen and wanton in the unyielding confines of his jeans. The ache was ferocious. A need came with it.

But still, he didn't yield to it entire. There was something sweet in the way her words grazed a path along the column of his throat. He'd not shaved in two mornings. The stubble was coming in thick and dark. In two more there would be whirls of coal-black bristle, not that he'd wait two more, but for now he was aware the raspy feel it'd have if her lips sought to find it. It wasn't something the gentle line of her mouth should be forced to endure in such a place, in such a hold.

So his head dipped and he kissed her. It'd been meant to be tender. A soft, building thing. The tangle of tongues to come later as the ache built and he'd need of her taste. But he underestimated how long it'd been since he'd had a proper woman in his arms and just what she'd done to him. His blood was up since their ride, churning now as she accepted his arms and the strength of him. There, beneath the trees, he kissed her hard. Claimed her lips with his own, felt her tongue as his drove against it in a hard twist.

And between them, more than alive, his cock flexed hard against the denim and pressed powerfully into her soft belly.

 

[RainingHeat]

The intensity of his kiss surprised her, as did the feel of his arousal. Surprised her, but was not unwelcome. His embrace was strong, she liking the feel of his arms about her sleek form, the melding of his masculine with her feminine. The softness and the hardness.

As his lips claimed hers, she opened to him, wrapping slender arms up over his shoulders, fingers curling into and thru his own short hair, tips raking along the scalp. A low moan vibrates into the kiss, her tongue meeting his in the warmth of her mouth, curling around, touching, tasting, daring to explore, to entice his back into his own mouth as hers followed, to learn him, the sweetness that was his, tangy, searing hot, her tongue snaking along his, mating within ... his mouth as heated as her own.

Green eyes had long since closed when the kiss began, and within, she saw images of bodies entwined, writhing, she beneath, he above, skin on skin, the cries of both lifted to the quiet sunshine that watched from above. She felt her own form quiver at that thought, the heat that began in the depths of her belly, and lower, beginning to spread, followed by the moist touch that told her she was preparing, her body sought to feel another, hungered to be filled, her heartbeat quickening against his chest as again, tongues switched places, back into the wetness that was her mouth. She wanted, needed, desired, to feel that thrusting elsewhere, as his fingers dug into her hips, she rocking ever so suggestively against him.

Had she planned something like this when the ride began? It certainly had not been in the forefront of her mind. But there was something so very male about him, that is dripped from him, something she found attractive, drawing her in. From his voice, to his way with the animals, there was something almost feral about him, wild, and it was that, she was responding to. She had never liked the pretty boys, the jocks. It was always the beast that attracted her, was that what she saw in him, a predator, a beast? Perhaps. Whatever it was, she could not ignore the draw it had over her, nor the sparks that even now were flying between them as she again, deeply, moaned into that intense kiss.

 

[Light Ice]

Some things had their own rhythm. Some things, nomatter what his intentions, got away from him and swept him up. You couldn't fight against your nature. That was the tragedy of it all. Jack London had said to do so was to risk having it recoil upon you, reel back and slap you down. Biology and evolution were stronger forces in a man's life than his aspirations. Too many, far too many, had failed to accept that despite all the things that make men great they were in their hearts...

animals.

Thoughts still clung within his mind. Shadows, really, of what had once rolled through the steady narration of his conscious. Want had torn from him most higher functions. Stripped him down. Bare to it, bare to her, in all the ways that mattered he carried himself on the tides that they had provoked. The arm around her waist slid back until his hand found the arch of her rounded hip and pressed upon it. She was a waif against him. Sleek, small. It was nothing to force her to backpedal across the leaf-litter and the sparse grass of the creek bank to the oak that towered over them both.

Trees, standing sentinel, made no argument as he trapped her against it. Braced her. Gave her nothing to retreat, gave her everything to arch back against, and force herself more intently into him as his mouth took greedily what nature had given her. Beauty was a rare thing. Precious. He indulged himself in it and took without hesitation. It was as it was in all things. An opportunity came and he was willing and able to claim it.

"Fuck." He managed.

The curse a flat, rough, hard thing amidst the sounds of his hand running up her side and gathering one full breast in its palm. There was feminine shape and inviting weight, warmth, the beat of her heart beneath it. His thumb stroked across the dampened fabric that clung to it, found the peak of a nipple through bra and T, and brushed sharply and roughly over it.

What drew from him next was a low, earthy rumble as his hips arched and crushed to her own. The length of his cock, encased in that denim prison, throbbing hotly as his hips forced her coltish thighs to spread some and allow him a carnal grind of their cores together. If there was a breeze he did not feel it. Intoxicated by her, drinking her up, he buried himself in the smell of her skin and hair. The shape of her mouth as his teeth closed on her lower lip and offered it a shamelessly primal bite.

Her breast trapped in his hand, mauled wantonly, as he memorized the feel of it against his palm in the intensity of the instant.

 

[RainingHeat]

Carnal... wanton... lust... sex.... such words, such feelings, racing thru one's mind, at not so random moments. The heat, the thickness in the air, the scent of arousal, those very words, unspoken, but none the less floating there, swirling around both of them, swirling with the same crescendo as the stream that ran past where they stood.

She felt him moving her backwards, he was gentle, he did not push, it was more of a guiding, a controlling, yet there was no breaking apart from the kiss. Their tongues were ensnared, curling together, mating feverishly, but never parting. When she felt the tree at her back, her breath caught, a low sound of surprise managed to escape around the kiss, rippling lightly from her lips to his.

"Fuck."

The word was not hers, it was his. If it had been hers, it would have been a whispering, a begging, a pleading... No, the words was not hers, it was his. That is not to say she was not thinking it, that word, fuck, him inside her, fucking, riding, taking, enjoying, thrusting, wet, hot, needy, passion... so many words that went along with that one word.. Fuck....

It was if he groaned the word to her, not actually saying it. Her answer was a heated chuckle that melted into a matching groan against him. The feel of his hand, cupping, claiming, her breast, brought forth another of those groans, her back arching from the tree, pressing into him, she had reached back for a moment with her hands, to brace herself against that trunk, now both arms wrapped back around him, around his torso, nails beginning a slow raking down his muscled back as she rocked against him. His hand to her breast, nipple responding, peaking, swelling beneath the graze of his thumb, she nearly clinging to him, body undulating, his hips pushing into her own, the swell of him evident.

It took her only a moment to spread for him, jean clad legs embracing, one leg lifted to curl about his hip. If they had been naked in that moment, he would have easily gained entrance into the very depths of her sex. As it was, her heat was nearly searing, even thru the jeans as she obscenely ground against his thickness that was so clearly outlined in his own jeans.

His teeth nipping at her lower lip, her breathless response, one word, and it... was not a curse.

"please"

 

[Light Ice]

It spoke to him by cutting through all the remaining layers of society that he wore. They were like strips of armor that were not for his benefit. He was a difficult man. A hard man. There had been few points in life when the world had really gotten inside of him somehow. Instead, he inflicted himself upon it. Cait had once compared him to a sledgehammer. It suited. His education, his diligence, had only ever been for the benefit of those near him.

But she was cutting into that with the subtle roll of her hips against his own. It was a language he knew and found easily unlike the words that too many relied up. Please, she had said. It was a sultry thing. Sweet. A whisper on the breeze as it rolled against them and broke against the growing heat of their melded frames. Please, she had said. It didn't matter they were without a bed or grass to lay upon. His hand dropped from her breast and surged again...

This time beneath her shirt. Fabric clung stubbornly to the smooth stretch of her belly and his fingers pushed it away. The calloused tips, more suited for tack and wood, glided over silken skin and past the button of her navel up the centerline of her sleek torso. Beauty. She inspired him. His cock ached ferociously as it lay trapped between the hot vice of her lean thighs and the molten promise at their crest. Still, his hand sampled her now. It ran over the cup of her bra and shamed it with the firm, easy way it handled the mound within it. The fabric pushed aside just enough by a rough thumb so that it's next pass found tightened nipple and flicked it without apology or hesitation.

She wanted him.

The realization had his heart charging. Pounding. Blood, life, surged through him in hot beats that rippled close to the sun-bronzed stretch of his skin. His entire life had been meant to savor these moments. Primal. Growing more so. She was such a delicate thing in his arms, so small and so soft, and still he kissed her ferociously and hardly blinked when the cotton of her T-shirt began to give and tear from the neckline downward. His other hand to blame, hooking it and jerking roughly. She'd have shaken all over from the force had his body not steadied her there, trapped her against the Oak's wide trunk. Shreds of white came free with the telltale buzz of ripping fabric.

And then his hand found the button of her jeans and nearly snapped it tearing them open.

His fingers slipped into the space created in their depths, glided across the thin fabric between her flesh and his touch. Cupped her mound. Cradled it. And toyed with the petals beckoning.

Soon now.

He had needs.