04.Sep.13, 01:15 PM
"The floor it is," Z'ia purred gently, his voice whispery soft and filled with his own delight as he felt Aveleth twine with Astoreth, the blue uniquely confident and proud in his capture of the energetic dragon, never smug - for Aveleth simply wasn't that type of dragon - but so proud and pleased; his nose nuzzling along her neck as he used his strenght and wingspan to guide them into a low angled fall, reaping as much time for them as possible.
A'liran was, as ever, a vicious partner in flight, and Z'ia had never come out of one of their actual flights the winner. Aveleth was too sweet, gentle and kind and his lust - those rare times he actually won - always over powered Z'ia and turned him into a likeness of the dragon's magestic mannerisms; he was soft, he was gentle, and he got the shit beat out of him as a result - especially from those such as A'liran. Z'ia, as a result, was not surprised when consiousness crept back quickly (Aveleth was ever quick to release him) and found himself covered in a world of aches and sharp little pains. Bites, scratches, bruises from hits and kicks. He was just glad A'liran never managed to hit him where he might retain longer term damage!
Consiousness was a time for payback, and Z'ia's lips twisted into a cruel sneer as he positioned himself carefully atop the woozy A'liran, using the few precious moments he had before the man turned back into a spitball to make sure he had the upper hand in every way. Wrists were gripped tightly, and pressed firmly across A'liran's chest, crossed over tight enough to both ache and bruise, Z'ia's short armspan not enough to hold them above A'liran's head, he compromised slightly.
Leaning forward, Z'ia trailed neat little kisses down the side of A'liran's face, dark green eyes watching him carefully as eyelashes fluttered. "Time to wake up, Ali," he crooned gently, making his way to the greenrider's lips. He kissed him softly, watching the other dragonrider, waiting, waiting - when he got the response he wanted, Z'ia's lips twisted into a vicious smirk against A'liran's, and he bit down sharply enough to draw blood; his head withdrew swiftly to avoid a broken nose.
"Good morning, precious," he purred, licking his lips.
OOC; power play with permission
A'liran was, as ever, a vicious partner in flight, and Z'ia had never come out of one of their actual flights the winner. Aveleth was too sweet, gentle and kind and his lust - those rare times he actually won - always over powered Z'ia and turned him into a likeness of the dragon's magestic mannerisms; he was soft, he was gentle, and he got the shit beat out of him as a result - especially from those such as A'liran. Z'ia, as a result, was not surprised when consiousness crept back quickly (Aveleth was ever quick to release him) and found himself covered in a world of aches and sharp little pains. Bites, scratches, bruises from hits and kicks. He was just glad A'liran never managed to hit him where he might retain longer term damage!
Consiousness was a time for payback, and Z'ia's lips twisted into a cruel sneer as he positioned himself carefully atop the woozy A'liran, using the few precious moments he had before the man turned back into a spitball to make sure he had the upper hand in every way. Wrists were gripped tightly, and pressed firmly across A'liran's chest, crossed over tight enough to both ache and bruise, Z'ia's short armspan not enough to hold them above A'liran's head, he compromised slightly.
Leaning forward, Z'ia trailed neat little kisses down the side of A'liran's face, dark green eyes watching him carefully as eyelashes fluttered. "Time to wake up, Ali," he crooned gently, making his way to the greenrider's lips. He kissed him softly, watching the other dragonrider, waiting, waiting - when he got the response he wanted, Z'ia's lips twisted into a vicious smirk against A'liran's, and he bit down sharply enough to draw blood; his head withdrew swiftly to avoid a broken nose.
"Good morning, precious," he purred, licking his lips.
OOC; power play with permission
Unless stated otherwise, Aveleth never speaks to anyone but Z'ia