Common

She was slipping. A mischievous smile plays upon his lips as despite the less than silent fall of his saucer-like hooves, the silver bay stallion is able to all but walk right up to her before her proud head lifts. For a moment, the briefest flash of time he watches as that recognition flashes before her deep auburn colored eyes. For a moment he wondered if there would be delight, perhaps somewhere deep down there was. At least, that is what the wolf saw. A savior.

But like the sun on a cloudy day it vanishes without a trace, buried beneath the thick layer of clenched jaw and pinned ears. Defiance. There is a flash of fire in her eyes, a reminder of his painted viper at home. How he had spent days chasing after her heels, relishing the feel of her flesh beneath his even when the seasons for procreation was against them. It had never mattered.

Saliva coats his tongue now as she snorts and kicks out against the hard mass of his frame pressed firmly against her rump. It was a futile attempt but it brought a coy grin upon his lips anyway.

Ears press forward amid the thick tangle of cream and caramel tendrils that curl against the muscular curve of his neck. Her words, hissed behind gritted teeth ignite that slow flickering flame that danced behind emerald green eyes. "Good." he growls, dropping his thick neck to nip at her chocolate brown flank, savoring the feel of her warm flesh against his own. It had been some time as it were. Meek was not his thing anyway. The wolves in his pack were fierce and spirited creatures, determined and strong willed. Only his little pearl Calypso lingered on the calmer sense of the meaning but even she had her own stubborn flare. It was his weakness.

He smirks now, muscular shoulder pressing more determined against her rump. "Meek does not survive well in my pack. I would hate to see such a pretty thing fall so quickly," he taunts, his tones sensual as his whiskered lips trail over the slope of her back. Still that gray stallion's scent lingers there and the beast fights back the growl that threatens to slide past his parted lips. Not for long. Thick skull rubs against the womanly curve of her hips, displacing the nomad's scent with his own. "You are mine now little dove. It is time to go home."