[mature] A beautiful face is a mute recommendation - Longclaw

[Longclaw]

LongClaw

-I close my eyes, Ignore the smoke-

He’d been expecting something, but what she gives him is so much better instead. The energy between Claw and his Lioness is nearly palpable; if one were to touch it they would withdraw in haste, cheeks flaming and eyes downcast with shame.

But Longclaw feels no such thing as that.

It’s the vice, the curse - an oily entity that ate away emotions like guilt or humiliation, leaving behind the blue shell of confidence and insatiable lust. Femur had been the only one thus far to break the spell (intermittently) and in those brief lapses he recoiled at the creature he’d become.

But this isn’t one of those moments. This is one of those moments where Diorae’s presentation of her irresistible backside (conveniently, aggressively cupped flush with his heaving chest) makes him lose all sense of the ‘here-and-now’. He feels instantly hard; by god she’s an animal - no, she’d been an animal this whole time -  and he thanks his lucky stars for having roved across her little hiding spot that warm day, so long ago.

Especially when that hind leg of hers tilts up with the promise of a reaction, should he continue. Marigold is … teasing him? Claw chuckles, a throaty rumble that vibrates against her skin because his mouth is still connected to her. She’s impatient, made all the more so when he takes another moment to leave her demanding, but when the crescent of her hoof slams audibly against the packed earth Claw growls in unspoken pleasure and lifts his head.

He takes another second (they all belong to him anyways, her life is his to command) and appraises the ferocity in her golden form. She’s untamed, wildly beautiful, stunning.

“Mine. All mine.” He thinks, hind legs buckling to heave himself with shocking fluidity up and over her. The round curve of his knees as they dig into her sides and roll over her ribs to settle behind Marigold’s shoulders is familiar and all too sweet. Claw shudders at the warm, heavy feeling his intrusion gives. He aches in his gut for relief but there’s brief comfort in simply settling into her, knowing her, claiming her inch by inch.

The consolation prize is never enough, though. He wants her, all of her, and with practised control the warg begins a slow assault of tug and push, building her brick by brick, thrust by thrust. Eventually he loses himself again, forgetting nonsensical things like tempo or rhythm for more carnal desires until the dry rasp of his grating snarl is all that accompanies each forceful plunge. He can’t discern if Marigold is with him in this hour or if she’s somewhere floating in her own sea of pleasure but he wouldn’t care anyways.

He’s ready; the Tephran wildcat has done more than enough to satiate his appetite and with a moaning, final heave Claw succumbs to the inevitable end. For a few, gasping breaths he lies immobile atop her, knowing without prior knowledge that this coupling could very well produce a sibling or two for Wildling. The sweat-soaked beast can’t find it within himself to be upset at this possibility. He only grunts and withdraws, landing with a solid thump to inspect the area of their union before raking a dry tongue over the curves of Marigold’s slick thighs.

“Be fruitful.” He commands of her body, a plea that escapes in a hushed whisper as he abandons her hind in favor of joining her side-by-side. Much like their first coupling, he has little to say. Only a warm, wicked kiss against the sharp pane of her cheek and then, “I want to see you more often. When I call a gathering for Tephra’s guard, be there.”

@[Diorae] Every time I go to tag her I always type 'Marigold' first and then I have to delete it and type in her real name lmao