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Word Count :: 599 lol eris. highlight for mature bits. 9_9
The sable hybrid, now showing the bare beginnings of her pregnancy, had not yet given herself over to lazing about. She was well-fed, as always -- Larkspur provided for her, but so did others of Salsola, too. Denver and Jeremiah were both charges of her hers, and they had done some small share of hunting with the sable hybrid. Her Optime form, the one she had chosen to birth the children, was showing evidence of this abudance in food -- her curves were more pronounced, her breasts fuller. Her fur gleamed and glowed with evidence of motherhood, too -- all in all, the coyote woman did not yet show the weariness that later pregnancy would bring her. Though she had only birthed one litter herself, the complaints of motherhood were not altogether unknown to her.
Yet, too, the bounties of it were upon her, as well -- enraged as her hormones were, the sable-shaded coyote had found a delicious hunger within herself. Fiery desire rose again in the sable-hued woman, previously all but extinguished in her with the sorrow of losing Wretch and her failure to conceive quickly again. Active as she was, the coyote found herself sleeping in that morning, alone in her den for the first time in memory. The children were already gone when her eyes half-lidded, fluttering open. Perhaps they had slept in Larkspur's den, or perhaps they were already gone. Axi was also gone, attending some preparatory task.
The coyote's hands wandered over her flesh, fingers sliding through her thick black fur over her belly. The ridge of flesh there, protruding, perterbed her momentarily, but soon enough her fingers found her hips, and they delved lower still, tentatively brushing over the fire burning there. She shuddered with the touch, a soft rumble of pleasure brewed deep in her chest. She might have called Larkspur to satisfy her, but she was not in the mood for his harshness, his animalistic tendencies. The old and knotted scars on her back were reminder enough of just how brutal the man could become. As her fingers played, her mind wandered, and she found others there -- faceless bodies she had admired over the years.
The muffled noise of the howl caused her to jerk, a growl of annoyance now leaving her lips. The sable-shaded woman stretched and groaned, arching both arms high above her head as she spread her toes out, her muscles drawing taut and hard for a moment. Her hand snaked back between her legs a moment and rubbed almost wistfully, and with that, she rolled over and crawled out of the narrow entryway of her den. It was difficult to traverse as an Optime, but it was too late for her to shift now.
Her walk toward the edge of the territory was brisk, the friction of movement enough to irritate her just so, but drive her no further toward her original intent. By the time she reached the sea caves, however, the woman had herself under enough composure and stuffed away her annoyance. The queen greeted Sirius with a complacent nuzzle on both cheeks, her downcast eyes stealing glances at the sharp lines of his body, wondering how they would taste to her tongue. He would not be anything like Larkspur; she knew this for a certainty. These thoughts The Auxiliary shoved away, however, her smile business-like and polite enough as she regarded the man's creamy chest.
“How might I serve The Boss?” she asked, one hand resting on her rounded hip, eyes glinting pent-up energy of various flavors.
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