[mature] i feel a bad moon rising - Wolfbane

[Wolfbane]

When I'm alone slow dancing in the dark

Forbidden.
He feels it like the roil of black snakes in his gut when Lepis quivers beneath the first kiss. Had they not been so still and faintly charged Wolfbane might’ve missed it, yet he doesn’t shy away. It only makes him wonder for a second if his emotions are all his own, or if (even worse) the perlino mare wasn’t earnest. Only a second, though. Much shorter than the moments that drag on afterwards where he can sense the abrupt change and hear, at last, something that confirmed every second thought he’d ever had about the Queen of Sylva.

This feels like something they’ve always known. Maybe never said, or brought up until now, (the way he prefers, like a crashing avalanche) still as natural to hear and likewise express as if they’d known it for ten, twenty years. Amazingly the second those words fall from her comely lips a jolt of lightning glances through him, leaving the brute reeling for a moment. Lepis wants more, and yes he can feel the adrenaline take a suckerpunch right to his train of thought. She’s moved to his shoulder, he can’t help but explore her own.

The dame’s skin shifts again underneath a slow-dawning light, “Mute gold.” he notes, registering that words are ringing in his overturned ears, just not exactly hearing them. Two pewter curves have him mesmerized and she’s bringing them close enough to touch. How could he possibly refrain from pressing his nose into her sacred flesh? From smelling the sudden desire that radiates as molten steam?

Bane is so in tune with the rhythm of her body they simultaneously turn back to look at one another, her steel blue gaze clicking into the jagged edges of his moss green stare. Without question or provocation her mate holds the look, lets her see every square inch of his vulnerability and counteracts that exposure by toying with the silky dock of her tail. “I can manage that.” the brute murmurs, “I want you so much I can’t stand it.” He thinks, blending their feathers into one another the more they caress.

Instinct guides him forward, taking control where he lacks physical experience, and the Lord finds himself hunched yellow chest-to-milky rump. Both his colorless wings have spread around her, bent in the direction of Lepis’ sloping shoulders to cloak their eventual joining and steady his ascent. Tender, a bit enthusiastic, yet he’s not in a rush like some hot-headed animal. Countless reasons for his celibacy had amounted to this moment - he wasn’t eager to spoil it. Lepis (born a Queen regent, raised as a royal, descended from royalty herself) deserved better, and she could rest assured that her unseasoned lover would take the time necessary for giving as well as receiving pleasure.

A pause; he glances over the ridges and valleys of her back, a reverent worshiper come to pay homage to a goddesses shrine, lifting one splayed foreleg to rub at her navy heel. “Are you ready for me?” the final question comes, bouncing hollow and empty over the stone walls of their secret den.

Don't follow me, you'll end up in my arms

@[Lepis] boner alert. Should we rate this M for *magical*?