Starglow Basin [m] look what you [m]ade me do

she curls around him and for a few tantalizing seconds he is a plume of willowing smoke cupped in the coil of her palm.  he drinks in the fragrance with eyes closed, a riverwater's current of nostalgia running through him.

if only he'd not dedicated his life to the green.

capo, she purls - her hips cocked against his tremoring shoulder. the look she gives him says more than any word in his tongue could; well? won't you?

he stands straight, unbending the longing arc in his spine. he cannot.  to do so would lose sight of the green, to lose sight of every careful pawn he's set up three moves in advance: they were too close to it all coming together for him to sunder it by creating duty where no duty need exist.

he stays the impulse to seize her in his arms and pull her hips to him; that brief image is gratification enough, but the illusion breaks when he sees the amazon out of the corner of his eyes.

have them both, osiel suggests.

but soto is a depraved ascetic. his lay with the amazon had been play before his gritty work in the teekon begun, and now he is arm-deep in work that cannot be sacrificed because of his own stupid manhood.

no. soto growls, pushing the woman he would very much enjoy towards the one he knew for a fact he did enjoy. no puedo. but his single eye traveled them both -- not without appreciation. encontrar a los hermanos.