[mature] a wind full of infinite space; Longclaw

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

Thank you, She says, even if it should be Longclaw that presses those words into her own thoughts. Femur knows, though. Between them there’s an understanding without the need for words - so raw and real it leaves him to consider the likes of their love without possible equal. The animals in this country fight and fuck, kill and give new life, but none (he knows) will ever love or adore her the way he so clearly does.

There should never be a question in her mind and though he cannot stifle what rages so darkly and sickly inside of him (the idea of monogamy is withheld as long as the stolen flames burn brightly inside of him) she should never wonder about her place in his world. He lives for Femur and nothing else.

Though, he begins to think as he watches Wildling withdraw to test out new legs, “it wouldn’t hurt to add more reasons to that list, especially if they exist as a direct result of her…”

Longclaw has already forgotten that this son is not Femur’s. So quick and natural it comes - erasing all thoughts of a nameless, shapeless mare to replace her likeness with his Ghost-girl - and when her eyes fly to meet his own the stallion is seized with a fresh renewal of desire. Of course I want one. She tells him, the idea sparking a mad hunger in his gut. Beneath himself, he can feel the arousal harden into pure craving. Do you, is the question?

The pied mare need not creep; Claw is already there to meet her, flesh against flesh and with a parted mouth pressing rakishly into her golden skin. How could he, in turn, explain that his apprehension had sprouted from disgust at himself? If it had been her beneath him then and her to carry the babe he would’ve never second-guessed his abilities. It was … different with her. Everything was different with her. “I want one for every star in the sky.” He demands, the intent in his voice unmistakeable even as it sprouts in the form of a guttural snarl, “I want one for every grain of sand on the beach, for every leaf sprouting free of a limb,” He breathes, rooted to the spot with the urge of controlling himself - Wildling already becoming the hint of a thought on his periphery.

“And you’ll give them to me.” He finalizes, nodding briefly against her as his lungs fight for air.

No more toying. He needed - wanted - only one thing and she had the power to give it over. His simmering gaze tilts once towards Wildling and then races back to hers, the unspoken enthusiasm to move somewhere more private as clear as if he’d spoken it aloud.

A few more minutes of this and Wildling be damned; he’d take her right here, right now - the rest could drift away.

@[Femur] gimme gimme gimme; I can never get enough of them <3