-Diorae-
The lioness is still very much at the front of her mind. Though separate creatures, they are one too. The primal instincts and desires, the lioness’ confidence too, are still there. And she doesn’t want to hear him talk. He always spoke for both of them, her vocal cords lacking the ability to answer him, and Marigold likes to hear him talk. She likes to hear him say how he was there for her, that she was his. It offered her guidance and comfort. But now. Now she only wanted hím.
Longclaw offers it and for once Marigold doesn’t hesitate to take it. Her muzzle, first gently, brushes his neck, then, more demanding, it’s firmer until he gives her exactly what she wants. Her head tilts to offer him her throat. Her breaths are soft pants and if she’d been able to, she would’ve moaned at his words. He’s so very right. Marigold needs him to give her something she can return to, not just now, but always. The lack of words has her pressing herself closer against him, in silent agreement.
He is simply stunning, beautiful even. The way the little light makes his coat shimmer only adds more to her desire. As she watches him she’s frozen, well, until he urges her up. Longclaw doesn’t need to ask her twice. Her movements are everything but graceful, her legs longer than she’d anticipated and she has hooves rather than claws. It doesn’t stop Marigold from pressing her form up against him.
The little bob – all that’s left from her once long blonde tail – flicks into the air the moment he growls those simple yet meaningful words. She’d been his ever since they first met, but he had never been hers. The words are enough to spin the palomino woman around, her head now facing Longclaw’s direction. A few quick steps and she is beside him, hunger in her gaze as her eyes lock upon him.
Her muzzle trails down his crest towards his withers, teeth uncontrollably getting sharper and more feline like. Nothing about her touch is gentle, tugging and pulling on his mane and her teeth starching his skin. Her journey ends at his withers, there where the lioness had briefly scraped his skin. A long breath escapes past her lips, all it lacks is the sound, but it is a moan nevertheless. One more nip at his withers and a quick glance in his direction, before she turns her rump towards his face. At the same time she can feel Longclaw’s threatening to pierce her skin and oh, how much the feeling thrills her. She pushes back against him, begging him to fulfil his threat. Her chest rumbles in a silent purr, and her own nips against his flank become more demanding and aggressive.
Marigold is more than ready for him to finally get to business. Her ears flick back against her skull and her neck bends as she bares her teeth at him while he’s positioned behind her. One hindleg rises from the ground in silent threat, and at the same time she presses her rump against his blue chest, rather impatiently. Her hoof meets the ground with a loud stomp, followed by a snort and a sharp shake of her head. No more games indeed.
A beautiful face is a mute recommendation.