and don't forget to breathe.
#13
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mall-caps;">In Character

    The coyote woman could not understand a lick of what he was saying to her—still, she didn't need to. There was no mistaking the desire laden into his voice, and she need only to gaze into his dark eyes to recognize the intent in them. There was a coy smirk across her muzzle as she drew her head back from his ear, twisting the scars across the russet splash into cruel hooks, just the tips of her sallow teeth showing brightly against the coal of her lips. Her fingers curled into his fur and she again marveled at the texture, soft and silky and unlike any other coat her fingers had touched or her claws had rendered into ribbons.



    Her fingers crept up his sides, the edge of her knuckles grazing against his arm on one side. That hand snaked over his chest, but the other explored his scar with the lightest touch, marveling at the raw, knotty flesh where there should have been an extension of his lovely body. He was as damaged as she was, and still lovely in it. He spoke again, that same lusty voice, but in words she could recognize this time. Her heart flared and her back arched to meet him, first her hips and then her whole body trembling as he slid inside of her. She had not realized she had been holding her own breath until she exhaled it in a sighing moan in that moment. He twisted her body to his liking and it was the last moment of peace for the hybrid woman.



    He was as lovely as he'd promised, tearing into her at a vicious pace which only served to light the silvery hybrid alive, fire burning through her entire body as he tore into her. It was as though her soul was shaking inside of her, and she could not supress the cry that echoed up from it, though even as it left her throat another wild thrust from the coppery furred man choked it there, strangling it midway through. This was no pup, no inexperienced youth to bend and twist to her will—this was royalty, and in that instant the hybrid would have knelt and kissed the ground at his feet at his command, if he were not wrapped inside of her, her limbs tangled somewhere skyward as he pummeled her. Her hands gripped his back, sliding downward from his shoulders to seek a loose hold at his hips, her palms pressuring him ever-forward with each thrust.

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