[mature] The veil of deception; Femur

[Longclaw]

LONGCLAW

-I close my eyes, ignore the smoke-

“Femur” She tells him. Femur, like the slender club of bone that locks into place at the hip. Longclaw moves himself there with the thought so that he might trail dark whiskers over the flat, shining circumference of her thigh. Golden, new - like a bright coin and all his for the taking.

His ear still twitches from the ghosting words of her hungry claim. In the twining rays of shadow and light, beastlike he roves across her body. At first he cannot help the way his mouth opens and presses into her, (a man of great thirst longing for that first drop) but sensibility, time, space … they all desert him in this hour. Heavy lips turn to aggressive moans; Longclaw closes his eyes against the radiant vision of her pressed so closely and empties himself of needless thoughts.

There will be nothing to disturb them, not even in his own mind.

In this moment, (in the moments he knows will come later) Femur commands his attention and he is more than willing to cast aside every other base desire so that she might fill him with only one: the ardor for her, and her alone.

Longclaw opens his eyes. In the curve of his neck, Femur cradles herself. He has never been a wordsmith, never wanted to express himself through feelings where action could suffice, so silently he disentangles himself to draw back. “Femur, you complete me.” He wants to say, but his blue shoulder is skimming atop the ridges of her ribs. “Femur, you enthrall me.” He wishes he could whisper, but instead his chest is thrust suddenly against the cascade of her ivory tail and his neck is pulled taught, sharp teeth taking liberties with the patterned croup she presents to him.(I want you, I need you, I will take you)

A step backwards and then his plush nose dives with authority into the warm, dark valley between her buttocks. He needs her unencumbered by her lovely assets and Longclaw has never been one to ask politely, but he brushes her tail aside with the flick of his fine head and leaves his tongue free to trail across the skin beneath. “So unequivocally stunning.” He surmises, reveling in the taste of Femur’s body.

She is … perfect.

“Mine.” He cements, rising comfortably to pull himself up and over her. There’s the familiar feel of his erection brushing against her legs at first, (it must all be smooth, one steady action) and he clenches his gut to draw it upright and guide it between her warm, butterscotch thighs. The sensation of parting her dark vulva, of entering a place so forbidden and yet made for him overtakes the iridescent beast. Longclaw shudders with satisfaction and plunges into the depths of Femur’s willing body as a crooning snarl rips along his throat.

He could stay here, like this, forever. Both legs wrapped possessively around her slender stomach, where the bulge of his muscled forearms can fit puzzle-like into the gilded dip of her triceps. His neck, curled around her own and heaving gasps of unspoken pleasure with every rocking motion he attempts. She is his glimmering madonna, an ethereal being that envelops him and drives him mad with longing; He is her velvet demon, unable to release the taloned grasp over her soul even as he cloaks her with his own weight and pushes his wants into her.

His navy hindquarters tremble and lock, Longclaw is far from finished so he grasps the height of her crested neck between his jaws and re-positions. Now, he can withdraw slowly, pleasantly; unsheath himself with infuriating precision so as to build her desire. He does so without the need to grip her harshly, his mouth is limp again as he pulls his length free incrementally, bit by bit, before insertion again. “I want to know you, let me learn you, all of you.” He thinks, numb to the outside.

“God, Femur …” He groans as he pulls free to the very tip; her body resists, naturally, gripping the flesh of his tool as mud sucks in a stuck boot. They become one. Longclaw pauses;

And then he is rage, fire, and predator as he thrusts roughly back against her. His teeth clack together and then spread wide, flying down to grab her arched neck as he slams into her with one fatal move. They have been building, growing, and now he’ll force her to new heights until they’re spiraling among the stars, god help him. He can’t help himself, she twists him to madness and he loves it, every second. The heated tempo builds in speed; Claw is wild and he breaks in waves against her, heaving and thrusting and fucking her like a possessed thing.

It’s only when he goes blind, (when the harsh, ragged cry of “Femur!” drowns out the other noises they’re making) only then does he release command of his own body. Together, she serves to expand and fill every empty space inside of himself until he is near to bursting from the want. He tastes blood, her blood, and then the want is too much.

Longclaw expunges himself inside of her. The crescendo of pulsating spasms can be felt between both and he relaxes, goes utterly limp atop her while his seed continues. The day has left them behind in their own little world; dusk is already coloring their sky with dark intentions. Wearily, finally, he slides free of her and lands with an unexpected thump, the stain of sweat coloring him close to black. Dry with salt and stuck to his neck, his mane breaks free with a loose shake and then, achingly, he eases forward to offer her support.

He says nothing, only presses a feverish kiss to her nose where it lingers before being withdrawn. His head rises and curls over the crown of her own, pulling her wordlessly to him in a silent embrace. The world around them grows quiet; the sky darkens further. At last, he breaks the stillness with his own low, rumbling voice. “You’re the only thing that matters to me now.” Longclaw tells her, certain in his actions. She had given him more than Marigold ever could, had shown him what coupling with a real woman was like, (what it was meant to be) and he refuses to go back down the ladder.

@[Femur] Here is your long-awaited smut novel <3 I hope it was worth the ridiculous wait xD