10-13-2009, 06:16 PM
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WC: 331
The cool air of the autumn morning no longer felt chilly; their hot breath materialized into clouds before their eyes, visible steam escaping between their fangs. Svara laughed at him, even as her collar was torn away, spiraling to land somewhere in the fog-shrouded grass. He could see the distraction in her gleaming yellow eyes, but her focus snapped back to him, always to him. He liked being the center of attention, especially when it meant being in demand. Whatever would Firefly think? Perhaps he should tell her himself, to see the look on her face...
Svara's slender arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in close as they thudded against the wooden post. Her warm tongue lapped at his fringed ear, her sharp nip following closely behind, making him growl appreciatively in response. She was warm to the touch, living up to her fiery appearance as he pressed his hard-muscled waist against her, more than ready to take her. The husky whisper denied his possession; he merely smiled in an expectant way, raising an eyebrow before he plunged forward, piercing the young werewolf for the first time.
His breath escaped in a satisfied grunt, tongue lolling in a panting grin as his rhythmic thrusting brought him deeper and deeper, plumed tail lashing behind him. The monarch's hand slipped along the fencepost down Svara's spine, gripping the bony arch of her iliac crest, the curve that marked the werewolf's pelvis. "Hrrah, still say I know nothing? I know this is what you wanted from the start," he snarled in her ear, desire coloring his accent. His grip was rough, claws subconsciously digging into her whipcord waist. "To be fair... unh! I wanted it too. You should never have had a mate," he admitted, teeth grazing the tip of her dark ear. Canines like them were not supposed to have mates. They were not supposed to be tied down with families or responsibilities - and they definitely wouldn't die of old age.
The cool air of the autumn morning no longer felt chilly; their hot breath materialized into clouds before their eyes, visible steam escaping between their fangs. Svara laughed at him, even as her collar was torn away, spiraling to land somewhere in the fog-shrouded grass. He could see the distraction in her gleaming yellow eyes, but her focus snapped back to him, always to him. He liked being the center of attention, especially when it meant being in demand. Whatever would Firefly think? Perhaps he should tell her himself, to see the look on her face...
Svara's slender arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him in close as they thudded against the wooden post. Her warm tongue lapped at his fringed ear, her sharp nip following closely behind, making him growl appreciatively in response. She was warm to the touch, living up to her fiery appearance as he pressed his hard-muscled waist against her, more than ready to take her. The husky whisper denied his possession; he merely smiled in an expectant way, raising an eyebrow before he plunged forward, piercing the young werewolf for the first time.
His breath escaped in a satisfied grunt, tongue lolling in a panting grin as his rhythmic thrusting brought him deeper and deeper, plumed tail lashing behind him. The monarch's hand slipped along the fencepost down Svara's spine, gripping the bony arch of her iliac crest, the curve that marked the werewolf's pelvis. "Hrrah, still say I know nothing? I know this is what you wanted from the start," he snarled in her ear, desire coloring his accent. His grip was rough, claws subconsciously digging into her whipcord waist. "To be fair... unh! I wanted it too. You should never have had a mate," he admitted, teeth grazing the tip of her dark ear. Canines like them were not supposed to have mates. They were not supposed to be tied down with families or responsibilities - and they definitely wouldn't die of old age.