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It is a curious thing, these sensations that sweep his body as his eyes zero in on her tiny pink tongue as it sweeps across her moist lips. It causes a foreign shiver to assault his senses as he finds himself riveted, unable to tear his webbed eyes from that one point. He recalls how those enchanting roseate optics sized him up as he approached, the intense curious head behind them as she let them travel up his form. Somewhere, somehow he knew that she was older, yet already he was bigger, and will only grow bigger with time. Logic dictated that once she was his, once their bond was completed that she would have to bear his children. The thought forces his gaze to leave her mesmerizing mouth to travel across her delicate facial features. Her eyes, moon her eyes were enchanting with their brightness, their exquisite hue, yet he is lost within the strength that plays within them. A strength that dances with her youthful joy, a ballerina amongst savages.
From there his eye caresses the angular forms of her ears down her neck and chest, inspecting her with a foreign heat; a heat not at all sexual, more possessive and admiring. A heat that burns brighter still as he sweeps his peculiar eyes down her spine to her lush tail. She was truly a blossom, tender, gorgeous, and a beacon of purity. Slowly, almost excruciatingly so he sweeps his gaze back down her bodice until they are firmly planted within her coral optics. He is confused yet so sure of this one moment that a soft sound of need slips past his lips. A sound that seems to uproot her, her svelte form shuffling forward, her hind legs sprawled out behind her in such a heart achingly cute fashion that a smile shimmers within his eyes. He is pleased that she is so responsive.
Her tongue, that sweet little tongue of hers, darts out to tease the fur on his chin. Instantly he is filled with manly pride, or is it boyish pride, as dominance and another more gentler feeling fills him. A soft yet savage sound escapes his throat, a cross between a groan and a growl of contentment. Then his head lowers, his own larger tongue slipping forth to caress her maw, her cheek, and her ears. The sensation of her, the taste of her is not enough. He needed, wanted more as he moves, circling around her and lowering his body slowly on top of her. He is careful not to rest his full weight on her as he “hugs” her…claims her by fusing his scent with her wondrous fresh snow, wind, and pine scent. All the while his tongue plays within her ruff, tickling her skin as warm breath rushes over her ears in an attempt to make them twitch. A rumble of contentment thrums through him as her tail beats happily, his own banner hurrying to mimic. Is this what made girls happy? Displays of joy? Moments pass before he speaks, never moving from her, yet not restraining her from movement either.
”Vision of mine, what are you called?”
His voice is deep, even, if not a little breathless as he enjoys the feel of her. Nothing he has done has been in the intent to be sexual. Only primal. Something within him demanded to mingle, to claim what was his, to let everyone else know that she is off limits. Remotely he knows to ask her if she has been with another. For if she were loose then he could not be with her, could not take a defiled woman as his own, and the thought sends pain rippling through him.
”Mine.”
The singular word is heavy with meaning. It is not a mating, no they will need time to really know one another. They will need to hunt, live, breathe as one before they make that crucial step so it is more akin to a promise. A promise that if all goes well she will never be alone. She will never have to hunt alone. That she will never need to fear for he will always be there. Lover, companion, friend, and protector.
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