12-15-2017, 12:50 PM
I love the way you rake my skin, I feel the hate you place inside.
They are like two serpents hissing at one another but his is full of forgiveness where hers had been full of warning. It is this admission of forgiveness that softens her further towards her mate though she can see that some ire of his is still stoked. Femur though, is placating in the way that she suddenly turns into him, rubbing her small self up against his larger blue self until she smells more like Claw than the foal or herself. His ire fans the flames in her until a small hot fire of something else is stoked and the look she gives him is pure need and naked desire. For but a single moment, she has forgotten the presence of the colt that cannot thankfully see the stark revelation on her face as to how much she wants her mate in that moment. Women.
They soothe and incite. One is kin to the other. Her need is building but she remembers the colt and reins herself in just enough to seem a little more tame, though never too much so for Claw’s liking - there is still unbridled passion there, in the arch of her neck and the high set of her head as she rubs her fanged lips against his jaw. Somehow, she had known it would always be this way with him, whether children were involved or around or not. Femur would never be able to resist the allure of her mate. It was a primal call that echoed and bounced around inside her until she reacted - gave in to it and set upon him like a jaguar in heat.
Suddenly the jungle seems like a spacious void that has sucked all the air out of it as the child comes forward and Claw seems… as still and silent as a stone. Her little face scrunches up in a frown as she observes him, unable to imagine all the possible things he could be thinking about the present situation and once more, her mouth regains the shape of a perfect little pout as stallion and colt stare at one another. Her gaze settles longest on her mate and soon enough, his eyes tear from the colt to fixate on her and there is no question as to what she sees therein - fear, something that she has never seen in him before.
It is naked and revolting. Longclaw has never once looked like this from all their time together. She stares back at him, giving him no quarter on this - no ounce of anything but herself, the colt, and her firm belief that he will do nothing but succeed where others have failed. Femur is not the kind to allow it, not even in her beloved as he looks damn near close to pain and it tugs at her heart but some things she has to shut her heart hard against. She holds her ground, challenging him with a sudden jut to her chin and the beginnings of a smile that curl her lips up at the corners.
Femur can see him crumble but she is there to pick up the pieces the moment he breathes again. “Wildling,” she purrs out the name as her fanged mouth finds his muscled shoulder and strokes it, delivering a stinging little nip between every masterful touch. She longs for her fierce mate to come back to himself, to realize he is better than all those that came before. “He looks like a little wild thing you left out there.” and she cannot keep her laughter back as she nips at him some more, soothing and inciting as only she can do.
(I might pay for this later, she thinks but relishes the thought with a little shiver that dances down her spine.)
Femur
@[Longclaw]