I see the way you look at him. I feel you tremble when he mounts you. They feel good, don't they? Those firm thighs tight on your body. Don't think I haven't seen you. The way you watch him when he moves. Those brown eyes of yours, keen as a hawk, bright as the sun.
You know he'll never love you that way. I can see how you hang your head when he pets you. He feeds you candy and you lick his hand, but it's more to you, isn't it? You lick his palm not for the lingering sugar, but for him - his flavor. You nuzzle him, smell his neck and make him laugh. And you know, don't you, that he still thinks you a horse - a mere beast, however revered.
For an elf of such keen sight, he's blind. He doesn't see the looks, the lingering touches, your breath in his face or my hand upon his thigh. He views us only as friends, companions. When he scratches your coat, he doesn't feel your shivering, he doesn't hear the longing in your whinnies.
He doesn't see. But I do. We share a love, you and I. And between us, I think, we can make him see.
