12-13-2017, 11:23 AM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
Most of the time, they are not given to knowing. How could either of them have guessed that the sighs and shivers in her sleep were portents of things to come?
She thinks it will be a memorable day. One full of shock. How could she stumble across his own blood and know it was his colt that stood there, looking so much like him from the green of his eyes to the blue of his skin? Not quite the same, but enough for her to not question it. Her beloved had been so skilled! It did not surprise her that he’d sought to school himself in the flesh of others before coming to her, practiced and slick, and she savored the thought of that - he’d taken the time to learn and perfect that particular brand of magic before immersing her in it.
Femur savors the thought of more moments like that, beneath him, spurring him to heights unknown from the rock of her hips in answer to every spartan thrust of him. But turns her thoughts to the task at hand - unveiling his son to him. That is of more importance at the moment than her mate climbing up her back, sinking fangs into her neck and grasping at her slim barrel with his hooves. Oh to be a wolf like him! Their matings would be just as fierce and wild in that shape as they are in this one, but to meet him on his own turf with tooth and claw? Femur chokes back a gasp and swivels her head to stare pointedly at the little colt that remains at her flank, his nose an inch from it, tethered to her by a bond that is just beginning but has tempered itself into something of unbreakable steel.
She was aware that he knew of her comings and goings. Knew that she grew restless at times and forsook their shore for the other one in search of something to pass the time, but she always came back. Returned, to him and their place, this heart-home of meranti tree and wolf’s den. Their own personal island that she adores for its greenness and bouts of sulphuric smoke that sometimes blow across it from the burping volcano. She knew he’d find her here, where else but here or the shore would she wait for him? So he’d come in due time and when he call rings out, more song than anything else that sends a shiver down her spine - not in fear, but in anticipation.
“Hide!” she commands in a hiss to the colt who turns into the wolf’s den without a moment’s notice before Claw is upon her. Snuffling and nuzzling as his lips claim her over and over, down to the arch in her belly and here it all falls apart - he is too still, a predator frozen and the look in his eyes is enough to ignite something different in her. The suspicious light he regards her in brings forth a surge of anger that throbs hot and fluent in her, like a language she is familiar with - too familiar with, as her fanged teeth bare themselves at him in response.
For a moment, she holds this posture towards him then softens as the anger deflates. She cannot remain mad at him - his suspicion is warranted given what she has been up to, and she figures that his senses are firing rapidly at the difference in her scent since the colt has been rubbing up against her, and she in return against him. She marked that foal like he marks his territory as a wolf. “I was out,” she explains slyly, her look less angered and more coquettish as her black eyes meet his all-too green ones. “But you knew that already.” He is sharp, she cannot contest that and he knew she had been gone and he knew she came back smelling different.
“I have a surprise for you…” she coos as her mouth finds his ear, a fang sliding against the soft fur of it as much as her slick gratifying tone does. It is time for father to meet son, she thinks, proud and foolish as her lips remained curled up in slyness. She calls back over her shoulder, daring to look away from Claw just this once; “Come out child.” and sure enough, the little blue boy does not disappoint and parts from the cloaking darkness of the wolf’s den to join her side. He peers up at the stallion, trying to take his measure, with eyes not quite as green as Claw’s but close enough.
Femur says nothing more, just narrows her own gaze in case Claw shows an ounce of ill will towards the colt. Her colt. Their colt. She knows her beloved has his trinkets of flesh that walk about on four hooves like she does, so she believes he’ll allow her this much, how could he not? Her lips almost set themselves in a sulky becoming pout as she stares at him in anticipation of his reaction to this unexpected development.
Femur
@[Longclaw] <333