[mature] a wind full of infinite space; Longclaw

[Femur]

He overtakes her through force and there is a delicious hitch in her breath as his chest pushes against her. She knows he’ll not be denied. He knows she cannot deny him. This is how it has been for them from that first moment in the forest that seems forever ago to her to have happened. His teeth in her neck. Her throat a slender offering of sacrifice. She can remember it well despite a spared thought to their son who has been nothing but obedient and scampered off just a second after her sharp command had been issued. Then her brain and flesh is consumed by the brutish intensity of her beloved and she meets him headlong in that animalistic desire that rides them both unforgivingly hard.

His teeth rake and take.
She turns her teeth on him in return. Snatching and grasping at whatever bits of him she can. It looks more like the two of them have begun to fight than him herding her hellbent on conquering the heat that sears both their loins to a frenetic fire of need. She needs him inside her now, until he can pound the soul right out of her skin! But the moment his teeth snap together in a hiss, Femur slackens her pace to further draw out the fervor in both of them. She stalls and slows, glances back to make certain that he is concentrated on the sway of her hips until he growls out his commands, sounding more warg and wolf than stallion.

A smile curls at the edge of her fanged lips.
She obeys him, how could she not? Femur lives for these moments of theirs. Except he steps away and her face falls into a pretty little pout as she plants herself firmly in another enticing display of her womanhood. Thoughts of their first time together crowd her mind. It had been sweet and tantalizing but now, he is more experienced and she is not as soft and virginal. How shall this time be? It makes a shiver dance along her spine until it shakes itself out of the soft pale folds of her tail and lifts the tip of a hoof onto it’s rim.

Her leg looks to be cocked to deliver a swift and sure kick but that is not the case. She is a mixture of relaxation and tension. Strung tight with anticipation as he stands parallel to her. This damnable nearness of him drives her wild with want! She could reach out and touch him but that might break the spell he is weaving her under and so, mustering all the patience that she can given her desirous nature, she just stands there and submits as she has always done. Submits but masters him somehow for the two seem to go hand in hand together despite all the dominance he lords over her (and she lets him - craves it from him).

His admission stuns her!
Femur knew that something more than momentous had happened back in the forest between them. Something fated and divine. But she could not imagine this - this revelation into the depth of his feeling for her. Oh but she had known his love for her was truer than it could be! She tries to concentrate on the circles he makes around her but finds that she cannot. He is too brilliant - too dazzling and dizzying in his confession as if it has been stripped from his very bones and lent words to make it real enough for her ears to hear.

She knows that he doesn’t make these kinds of confessions to the others that he mounts. He might pour his seed into them and he might say all the things they think they want to hear from his wicked mouth but none of them will have this. Claw saves these things for her and her alone. It is more than just an understanding that the two of them have between them. Foundations of trust and lust have built themselves up and forged a love that laughs in the face of all others. Nothing can compare to them. Nothing! She knows this even as she spits back the smallest of murmurs to him - “If I couldn’t be yours, I wouldn’t have wanted to live anyway.”

It is true, she realizes.
The moment it leaves her lips.
She’d have died then and there just to spite him if she couldn’t have been his. In death, she’d have gained some dominion over him just as she has through her constant and endless adoration for him and towards everything that is him. Instead, he shows dominion over her by coming to a halt behind her rump and her anticipation mounts (much as she imagines him about to mount her). He admits that he can’t breathe without her now and she can feel his breath and the words curl across her skin which raises a pant from her lips.

Claw is delaying this! Enjoying it too! Her eyes narrow in consternation until his fangs catch on her skin making her shiver and moan in response. Escape never occurred to her as her body shakes on the brink of passion’s tide. It swells and pulls her under until she rolls with it in the beginnings of climax brought on by nothing more than a few breaths and a bite that shook loose everything from her skin and made her bones dissolve into puddles. God he made her melt! Not even with a searing look from those flaming eyes but from the hope that his fangs might meet ehr flesh and they had and she nearly caved beneath that longed for touch.

Femur longed to make him come undone in the same fashion.
Not yet though.
He still commanded center stage, and her.

Oh stars! She cannot think and she’s gone blind from the things he does to her. His face rubs over every inch of her croup and Femur is beside herself - inside herself - outside herself. It makes no sense and shouldn’t be possible but somehow she has become ungrounded in the same instant that he grounds her there with his simple stunning request: “Spread yourself for me.” She adjusts her stance, splaying first one leg than the other. Up and over goes her tail as she lifts it for him to give him a glimpse of that winking pearled part of her that the treasure-hunter in him seeks.

It is enough to make him rise over her like a crushing blue tide that she cannot wait to have sheathed deep inside. Femur is the stone to his sword and longs for him to embed himself there, where he belongs, hilt-deep and lodged tight together until their bodies must force them apart in order to recover. Except she wants no part in recovering! Let her be lost in him forever! She already is besides these separate skins they possess like aliens. But he teases! And she grows impatient and gluttonous, needing to feel him slam himself inside her until she is nothing but the rocking motion of two horses lost in mating and so much more.

Damn him!
She can feel his cock stroke over her thighs. Hard and quivering against the natural softness of her flesh but he is skilled in keeping it from slipping inside no matter how she grinds back against him in want of it. Femur groans and growls all in the same breath. “YOU!” she hisses. “You and only you and that delicious cock of yours!” She is not afraid to say it. To be so bold as to claim his member as hers as she shimmies her hips just so and rocks back just a tad to feel it ghost over her thighs again.

“Claw, please!” she howls with panting need.

@[Longclaw] i hope this was worth the horrible wait! <333

[Longclaw]

LongClaw

-I close my eyes, Ignore the smoke-

Her blood dribbles down his lip. It rims the crease of his mouth, stains his lower jaw, and saturates his tongue in copper tones. He hadn’t meant to take so much but it had bubbled up from the prick of his teeth and spilled forth in a gush of hot liquid. Now, with his body cloaked over the golden mounds of Femur’s back, it drips to land spot by spot atop her withers while he waits for her reply.

“YOU!” She wails, but he’d known it all along. Longclaw had wanted her to say it, to scream it, and the verbal affirmation is enough to cinch the grip he already has that much tighter. There’s nothing more pleasant than the sound of her ringing soprano, especially when it concerns the matter of his greatest pride. “Claw, please!” His lady begs, the final, masterful stroke of a woman whose greatest power has always been in bringing him to his knees.

“Gods yes,” He moans, sliding backwards to leave a trail of crimson streaking her topline.

This time, there’s no taunting involved. He takes her swiftly enough, a forceful plunge that rocks them both forward underneath his guidance. Each return is teasingly slow, however; drawn out and elongated until he finds that he’s nearly free and then, he plummets between her thighs again and again. She felt like velvet, like sin and something that could unravel him. His tongue flicks free of its place to glide over her the shimmering curve of her shoulder and he growls, “Remember this?”

His hind legs buckle to shift his hips up; the beast enters her from a new angle and forgoes the pleasantries of meticulous building in favor of a tried-and-true method: fucking her senseless. The blue gild of his knees flashes as he presses them further into her sides, forearms bulging with the effort of forcing himself deeper inside of her. He’s so mad with untapped desire that even his heels lift free of the earth, tipping themselves to the rim with every forward motion.

Longclaw is drunk on her, the rest of the world entirely forgotten. His Mate’s lifesblood has dried on his face and he can feel himself close to a precipice but he’s far from done with her. “A goddess,” He names her, the sound muffled into the humid folds of her gleaming mane.

And then he pulls free.

Instantly he misses the racking spasms of her beneath him and his member agrees, protesting the action in a jerk of anger. Claw ignores it and shuffles back, prickly chin rolling over the hitch of her croup with intentions of finding that delicate pearl she’d exposed so prettily before. He’d always admired how inconceivably perfect Femur was, top to bottom, and now he wants to appreciate this particular part in a way she’ll find … surprisingly pleasant. (his curiosity over the matter of her reaction was enough to stiffen him again, perhaps worse the second time around.)

He chuckles before driving the point of his nose between her sopping thighs and then his tongue flicks free again, just to brush the opening of her sex with the faintest of touches. Claw pauses - he wants her body to adjust to this new advancement and, simultaneously, wants to feel her reaction too - but a pause is all he can manage before a fresh sheen of sweat breaks out across his body. The animal inside of him roars to life.

It hungers for her, leaves his tongue slathering a mix of them over her puckering cunt before diving inside to toy with her there. Wordlessly, he challenges himself to make her finish this way. Longclaw has never considered a mare’s satisfaction above his own but for some reason, (as was usual when his Ghost-girl was involved) the idea of pleasuring her fully with just his mouth made the idea of his coming in second place all the more wicked and wonderful.

@[Femur] I debated for a good 20 minutes if I should even post this or not so I'm officially calling it: smut-a-la-smut with a cherry of smut on top. Lol.