Herbalists' Cache hoof cache

her eyes drift shut at his touch, a slow, languid blink like some great cat basking in the warmth of stolen sun. she allows him this. allows herself this. the weight of him pressing in, the roughness of his breath at her ear, the steady thrum of his presence grounding her where she rests against the stone. for a moment, she forgets the names that bind them. forgets the blood that would spill if the wrong eyes found them like this.
you are smoke now, she murmurs, low and knowing, her lips barely moving. dissipating into ashes under her hand. her gaze slides to him, half-lidded and unimpressed. and you were meant to burn.
her belly shifts with the movement of life within it, and the ache of it is eased only by the sheer, solid presence of him pressed into her side. a sound escapes her, a breathless hum, something dangerously close to pleasure. you chose her, she concedes, rolling her head to rest against the stone, casting her gaze skyward as if the stars might offer some counsel. and i chose my husband.
yet here they are.
his question lingers in the cold air between them. she tastes the danger of it on her tongue. what are we doing?
her smile is slow and sharp. a queen's smile. the kind that holds kingdoms in its teeth. what we have always done, kol. his name is a whisper, a sin. surviving. taking what we can... because we can.
her tail flicks, brushing against his flank. you often think my fire has been kindled. the wind was listening. with the mountain watching.
a breath against his jaw. but there has been none to ignite it.