"Can't think of anything I'd like better," she informs him, pleased as punch. "You sound like a dream. Always do, 'course, in all the best ways."
She'll take her time wrecking him. … Or maybe, she thinks — as she treats his gorgeous ears to fluttering flicks of her tongue here, and longer, slower drags there—she'll wreck him fast and take her time keeping him there. One or the other, or maybe both.
A brush of fang follows, deliberate, firm enough to tantalise yet gentle enough to avoid pain.
Macaque only notices the thumping tail because his ears are hyperfixated on everything she's doing, in every way that it's possible for ears to be. Her words, her heartbeat, her breathing, her tongue and her teeth.
His fingers curl in her fur as he less grooms than holds on, releasing a sigh that quickly turns into a moan. Melting into whatever sort of puddle she cares to form him into at an alarming rate.
(Why does everyone always go for his ears? It's the only shared habit that his mates have.) (Mate, she's his mate now. He can hardly believe his good fortune.)
"If I sound like a dream," he starts, having to pause after those words for some heavy breaths, "it's because you make me think I've wandered into one."
Let it never be said that he can't be a charming motherfucker even when he's underneath someone at at her mercy.
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Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
"Can't think of anything I'd like better," she informs him, pleased as punch. "You sound like a dream. Always do, 'course, in all the best ways."
She'll take her time wrecking him. … Or maybe, she thinks — as she treats his gorgeous ears to fluttering flicks of her tongue here, and longer, slower drags there—she'll wreck him fast and take her time keeping him there. One or the other, or maybe both.
A brush of fang follows, deliberate, firm enough to tantalise yet gentle enough to avoid pain.
Re: September 29 - discussion of NSFW
His fingers curl in her fur as he less grooms than holds on, releasing a sigh that quickly turns into a moan. Melting into whatever sort of puddle she cares to form him into at an alarming rate.
(Why does everyone always go for his ears? It's the only shared habit that his mates have.) (Mate, she's his mate now. He can hardly believe his good fortune.)
"If I sound like a dream," he starts, having to pause after those words for some heavy breaths, "it's because you make me think I've wandered into one."
Let it never be said that he can't be a charming motherfucker even when he's underneath someone at at her mercy.