Romance is in the air...this is probably the most beautiful and scenic place in Blossom Forest. For the athletic and determined to come with their mates, for time away from pups. Only adults may come here; some of the ledges are too far apart for teens or pups to cross and some too high to scale.
IP: 76.243.46.249
Posted on August 7, 2012 at 01:42:45 PM by KERSHOV
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Kershov shivered as Minaj described the glorious thrill of killing, graphic detail slipping off her tongue like precious paint onto a blank canvas, immersing the Ice King momentarily in dark bliss. Oh sing to me, muse. Minaj had the brutality of a tundra queen wrapped up in fatal finesse; she was a python, a viper, death and elegance. Ker had never encountered a fae so gorgeously, perfectly dangerous. He chuckled at her flirtatious threat—never doubting that what she said was true. Slanted black eyes, sharp as scimitars, glittered back at Minaj’s brilliant autumn-gold mirrors. The arctic Alpha barely registered the glinting flecks of emerald piercing those irises; he stared at the goddess within while she stared right back. As Minaj’s lips caressed the thick fur behind Kershov’s ear, the Snow King rumbled in pleasure. His seismic growl intensified at the sharp prick of teeth on his skin—blizzard thunder. The faint heat of his own budding blood couldn’t compare to the searing sensation scorching his chest, however: sapphire flames smoldered in his ribs and shivered delectably down his spine. Minaj ignited forgotten embers of savage lust Kershov hadn’t felt in moons. “A little kiss, dearie? Surely you want me more than that . . .” He licked the torn side of his muzzle, smooth pink muscle running over rows of gleaming knives and harsh pearlescent scar tissue. “If you want me, take me.” His shark-jaws were around her throat then—fangs prodding past her sable fur—guiding her roughly to the ground with his powerful momentum so that she would lay prone beneath him. Once the King heard the muffled thud of Minaj’s spine hitting the ground, he straddled her, huge snowshoe paws firm by either side of her neck and hungrily grinning maw smiling above her pulse. Wordlessly, the arctic gangleader’s tongue lolled out to lap at the downy earth-toned fur right above the she-wolf’s chest . . . it traced a wet line up her vulnerable throat . . . only to retract and allow his bottom fangs to complete the trail, teeth hard and deadly over the softness of her flesh. Kershov paused at the curving base of Minaj’s jawbone; here, his tongue reached out to savor the fresh cut still damp with blood lining her chin. “You taste divine, lovette.” A shadowy chuckle slithered icily from between his daggers. “Just like a killer.” Suddenly one massive paw was pressed against Minaj’s breastbone, pinning her in case the poisonously spirited vixen tried to struggle. Ker lunged toward her throat again, jaws locking now in a fatally playful squeeze—nowhere near enough pressure to choke the wolfess, yet just enough to lightly puncture the yielding canvas beneath her pelt, inviting lurid rubies to bloom. Kershov released his prize and arched his neck to better glimpse the gift he’d bestowed on his ferocious new lover. Minaj seemed to wear a necklace of blood. Keeping his paw splayed across her chest, the tundra dragon snarled in laughter. “Your turn—if you can manage it.” | |
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