-Diorae-
Her expression sours as he chuckles. Ears flick back, even touching her neck for a brief moment, and the annoyance is clear in her eyes as she glances across her shoulder. The lioness within her wants to growl at him, but in both forms her vocal cords are lacking. However, Longclaw has always been able to read her perfectly well. Marigold had never needed words in his presence. That today was different couldn’t be more frustrating.
Impatiently she bumps her rear against his chest, the stump of her blonde tail flicked up. It is in stark contrast with the dark blue of the warg’s coat. He is the sea and she the sunset horizon, coming together in an erotic dance.
His, all his, but fuck, can’t he get down to business? Or up, in this case. By the time he finally raises himself of the ground, Marigold cannot be more ready. A grunt escapes past her lips and eager she bucks up her rear lightly. Never with the intention to get him off, but simply to make clear she is willing, and in a hurry.
Her stance widens and head rises slightly. Soon her flanks are sweaty, her breathing speeding with each of his thrusts until she’s panting. The harder his thrusts get, the heavier her pants grow. Marigold cannot moan, nor cry out in pleasure, or even urge him on, but each and every breath of air coming from her parted lips are as much of pleasured noises as Longclaw’s loud grunts.
Claws shrink black to hooves, the ground under them all turned over and a battlefield on its own. Marigold doesn’t notice. Her head drops towards the ground ever so slightly, and her sides heave with every breath she takes. Pleasure is still on the very front of her mind and in that state she cannot even get herself to mind his inspection. When Carnage had taken her tail she’d been so embarrassed, humiliated even, but she revels in the knowledge that he’d failed to scare Longclaw away from her. Revels in the knowledge that he likes it. She shudders, the blond fluff off her tail swaying.
Her lips twitch ever so slightly. She could’ve known that offspring was one of the things on his mind. The golden cat hadn’t even thought of what the result of their coupling might be, want had been first and foremost on her mind. Just as close proximity is all she desires now. Her golden lips trail down his neck, much gentler than before, though still very much daring than last time they’d seen each other.
She ignores that cuddling might not be on his mind. She wants it. And he had said he was hers. So she takes it. Her sweat slick side pressed against his as his lips land on her cheek. Her eyes narrow at his words, she wants bask in the aftermath of their coupling, but they both know she would be there. Marigold isn’t in the place to deny him anything, so she drops her head in silent agreement.
With that out of the way, the last bit of wildness pushes her to move. Marigold doesn’t move away from his side, but her lips take free reign over the canvas that is Longclaw. The corners of his lips, which get a sharp nip, up to his cheek and she eventually rests her muzzle in the crook of his neck. With a deep breath she takes his scent to her, basking herself in his scent and the musk smell of their dance.
But it’s not enough. An impatient nip and a more gentle push of her nose. She wants his touch too. His caress, his attention. It’s not reassurance she seeks, or the lovely dovely cuddling of lovers. It’s his attention she wants, the lioness was far more possessive than Marigold would ever be herself.
A beautiful face is a mute recommendation.
@[Calcifer] <3