Much of Tunnel’s body is an inky blue, the river having soaked him through, water dripping from the feathering at his fetlocks and cording the ends of his mane. Returned to the cool dark of his forest and the clearings and mad labyrinths that he has haunted for years, it occurs to him just how long he has been away in the very deepest and most twisted parts of the forest. He has been here with many others, captives, thralls, and pets. There is something vastly different about having Bardot join him here, she is oddly fearless and he is absent the viciousness that he’s cowed so many others with. He would normally be bored by this, but he isn't, not as he leaves the marks of his attentions across her damp hide.
Bardot is chilled from their swim and perhaps from the strange cold of the forest. Tunnel may be a monster of malicious inclinations but he heeds the familiar grip of protective instinct, and presses himself nearer, his body radiating warmth in spite of the damp. Embracing her with a shuddering growl, his teeth graze over muscles that shiver against the drastically changed temperature. No it is probably not like a warm jungle at all, but she seems satisfied enough as she slides against his body, his lips graze the midline of her back as she goes and hover over the curve of her rump. Her attentiveness pleases the creature, and he watches her with keen grey eyes as she casually threatens his throat with her pretty spindled horn once more.
Tunnel turns into Bardot, curving his body after hers, around her, appreciating her strength, the softness overlaying it that meets his solid power. Deceptively feminine wrappings on a woman he senses would not hesitate to fight him if she wished to. Tunnel’s breath fogs against the leopard spots that climb up the side of her neck, his lips then his teeth grazing the line of her jaw down to the corner of her mouth. “You are unlike anything in this place. As out of place as your passion flowers.” He murmurs, catching her lips between one sentence and the next. He pulls back enough to nip her jaw, the soft skin at her throat. The kiss that he soothes it with hardly gentle. “It is probably the only reason I will be willing to let you go.”
@Bardot
