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fear the vulture and it will come. fear nothing and you are the vulture.
The Vulture didn’t—couldn’t—miss the sudden stillness in Najya’s hot skin beneath his muzzle; nor could he miss the soft silkiness of her coat against his lips as they brushed at her withers. Heated, red-yellow eyes glance in the direction of her delicately curved ears and sculpted throat, questioning and curious. She allowed this touch, would she allow… others?
So his muzzle lingered, a rouge grin curving up his dark lips as she answered his question with a mischievous, coy one of her own. “A woman of mystery, eh?” His mildly plateau-accented voice question, purposefully allowing his lips to brush against her russet skin—should she allow him to remain close to her.“I’ve always enjoyed a little intrigue,” his rough voice carefully stressed the words, ladening them with meaning beyond their syllables.
And then his grin grew, massive body beginning to shift as she asked after his talents. Subtly, slowly, his muzzle began to move from its place at her withers to travel gently along her spine. Every so often, his hot gaze would leave their appreciation for the soft curves of her russet skin to glance towards her face, both ensuring that his motions were accepted and checking to see if they were appreciated.
“I could tell you,” was his quiet, murmured reply,“But I’m better with actions than with words,” and his muzzle finally reached the destination of her haunches—where he placed a gentle, teasing nip.
So his muzzle lingered, a rouge grin curving up his dark lips as she answered his question with a mischievous, coy one of her own. “A woman of mystery, eh?” His mildly plateau-accented voice question, purposefully allowing his lips to brush against her russet skin—should she allow him to remain close to her.“I’ve always enjoyed a little intrigue,” his rough voice carefully stressed the words, ladening them with meaning beyond their syllables.
And then his grin grew, massive body beginning to shift as she asked after his talents. Subtly, slowly, his muzzle began to move from its place at her withers to travel gently along her spine. Every so often, his hot gaze would leave their appreciation for the soft curves of her russet skin to glance towards her face, both ensuring that his motions were accepted and checking to see if they were appreciated.
“I could tell you,” was his quiet, murmured reply,“But I’m better with actions than with words,” and his muzzle finally reached the destination of her haunches—where he placed a gentle, teasing nip.
graasvoel
@Najya
