[mature] A beautiful face is a mute recommendation - Longclaw

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

There’s no reason to doubt her, anymore. If he had thought her to be a shifting sort of personality, Longclaw might have cut the strings of her pretty throat long ago. That first day, crouching near the edge of the riverbank, he’d meant to do it - wanted to, even.

And now here they are. Slipping wordlessly into the water, Marigold succumbs to Longclaw’s desires in a fashion that only serves to stroke his ego. With every soft turn of her body his inner demon purrs in elation, the color of her skin melting into warm butter beneath the black waves of this steaming river. Only when she stops, head dropping to hover above the lapping water, does he move forward to begin the ritual observed by those in close confidence; his iridescent body glides alongside hers, they entangle each other like yin and yang. “You must have been terrified, I know.” He says at first, nose dipping into the water before he pulls it out once more to stroke her skin. It leaves wet marks along her hip and muddies the dried blood placed there.

“I never doubted you.” He murmurs, emboldened by her presence. The flat of his cheek presses flush to the golden curve of her skin, he rubs greedily against her. “And now I never will.”

He pauses; with the backwards tilt of his head and the hungry, green flash of his eyes he relays his wants without words. He’s learning, after all, how to communicate to this silent bird. “Have you missed me?” He longs to say, though he knows the answer already. Look at her! Returned to him with practically no effort on his part. Marigold was his, now; she’d proven her worth. Again, his eyes flash with lean, hot desire. “I’ve missed you.”

He moves; the water churns beneath his legs and brushes softly against Diorae’s. Around her hind (he pauses only to lip the remnants of her tail - he rather likes the bob, the way it cannot hide her feminine charms anymore) he twists himself, the two are positioned like animals thrust together in a ‘T’ formation. “Marigold,” He calls, that unnerving gaze never straying from her lovely face, “were you transformed?”

@[Diorae]