31.Aug.13, 02:09 AM
"That's quite alright!" Z'ia chirpped happily in response to A'liran, not at all unaware that the greenrider's comment was most likely meant to be an insult. "I'm quite short!" He grinned impishly, green eyes sparklng in the sparse bedroom lighting. Oh, he was so going to enjoy this flight! He could feel the quiet confidence coming from Aveleth, and knew that it was not a flight his blue would let get away from him. Oftimes, Aveleth would chase some greens simply because he felt obligated to do so, though his lust was almost always lacking - a show, to make the girls feel special - but this time, Z'ia could feel the tingling of dragon born lust making its way through his blood, and it thrilled him.
"Only if I can take you with me, Ali." Z'ia's grin turned feral as A'liran advanced towards him, the tiny bluerider shifting his weight casually and without any real thought onto the balls of his feet, preparing for the attack that was coming - an event given away both by the expression on A'liran's face, and, of course, a handful of years at winning the spunky man's green in flight. Z'ia gave a soft whoop of laughter when A'liran lived up to expectations and suddenly leapt at him.
Never, my lady, the young blue crooned, risking setting the emotional green off by extending his nose to her own, and watching her gracefully leave the solid Pernese soil with the same placid gaze he was ever home to - when not overwhelmed by the world at large. He sat for a few moments, allowing her the time to twirl above him and show off playfully before rumbling softly. She would be his, this night! Aveleth's eyes shone with the unusual spark of confidence, so rarely seen upon him in any way or manner, and he lifted lightly from the ground himself. The heady satisfaction he felt radiating from Z'ia only fuelled the timid dragon's fire, and he rose elegantly into the air, waiting just long enough for Astoreth to lead the dance before following her placidly. There was no need to get obnoxious or impatient; she was a beautiful green who always lead an exciting chase.
Z'ia's laughter was still hanging in the air as he dodged just enough to avoid the brunt of A'liran's attack, without opening up the doorway for the other man to escape. Hands extended, brushing over the greenrider's hot skin in light, gentle touches that were designed to mislead. "My, we are eager tonight!" Z'ia gushed softly, stepping back into the way of the door as he carefully fought for control of A'liran's wrists, fingers a little rougher as he focused more on the intent of being in control than keeping up the gentle play. Only should he manage to grasp the wrists, would he return to the gentleness, green eyes eager.
"How does this flight strike you," Z'ia purred, keeping careful tabs on A'liran's feet and knees, very wary of attacks on his groin. "The bed? The floor? Or perhaps up against the wall?" He was being so generous! Z'ia smiled, the expression perhaps softer and more playful in that moment than malicious or evil, as Aveleth's gentler lust crept in more strongly.
"Only if I can take you with me, Ali." Z'ia's grin turned feral as A'liran advanced towards him, the tiny bluerider shifting his weight casually and without any real thought onto the balls of his feet, preparing for the attack that was coming - an event given away both by the expression on A'liran's face, and, of course, a handful of years at winning the spunky man's green in flight. Z'ia gave a soft whoop of laughter when A'liran lived up to expectations and suddenly leapt at him.
Z'ia's laughter was still hanging in the air as he dodged just enough to avoid the brunt of A'liran's attack, without opening up the doorway for the other man to escape. Hands extended, brushing over the greenrider's hot skin in light, gentle touches that were designed to mislead. "My, we are eager tonight!" Z'ia gushed softly, stepping back into the way of the door as he carefully fought for control of A'liran's wrists, fingers a little rougher as he focused more on the intent of being in control than keeping up the gentle play. Only should he manage to grasp the wrists, would he return to the gentleness, green eyes eager.
"How does this flight strike you," Z'ia purred, keeping careful tabs on A'liran's feet and knees, very wary of attacks on his groin. "The bed? The floor? Or perhaps up against the wall?" He was being so generous! Z'ia smiled, the expression perhaps softer and more playful in that moment than malicious or evil, as Aveleth's gentler lust crept in more strongly.
Unless stated otherwise, Aveleth never speaks to anyone but Z'ia