Arvakl

Scratching my antlers against the rock, I wonder if I'm sharpening them enough. I like the rounded edge for aesthetic reasons, but hell, if I can't even see them myself then why does it even matter? I'd rather have them sharp for a fight than pretty for me to NOT see. Dumbass aesthetics. I watch this man slowly rise from the snow out of the corner of my eye. The flakes fall from his form, leaving parts of him darker where they melted on his warm body. I see now that his tail is like that of a lion's, while his horns are some other creature entirely. There is fire hidden behind that façade, don't think you can fool me mister. I know a game when I see it, I play them all the time.

Those flies under your skin, hatching and growing. Does it hurt? Does it itch? Can you feel me wriggling there in your back, enjoying the warm and protection you give me while I grow. Nurture me while I grow, golden man. Give me everything I desire. But no, you don't seem to be letting me in. What a shame, not letting the poor little girl play her game. You're a party pooper aren't you, just cutting off my avenues one by one. Your agitation is clear, trying as hard as you can to mask it. You don't enjoy me bothering you, messing with you. You want me to fuck off and I recognize blood lust. I'm not here for a fight but I don't mind one. I take whatever I can get and with stallions, well. That can be just about anything. I've never been with a full grown stallion before, but I know what girlish charm is for and I know how to wield it. I saw it enough growing up I know what it's like. I saw my sire fall for it and saw what came of it. I know the power my body has, fighting or lying beneath you.

Your attention narrows when I call you handsome. You like that don't you? Me stroking your ego. And that's when the conversation changes tones entirely. You've sassed me, telling me safety is irrelevant, but when I bring looks into play, that sass turns into seduction. I step closer to him, taking the risk that feels so wrong, so right. The grin that passes his lips makes him look even handsomer. Yes, I think I'll have a taste of that. My eyes glitter as the light reflects back into them off the snow. He changes tactics, complimenting me now. The line he gives me is cliché and though I find it obnoxious, I hide my gut response. No, don't stop, golden man. I can do a lot of.. favors. The innuendo is so obvious it's like being bashed in the face with a frying pan. Won't you let me make it up to you? Waking you from your relaxation? Let's not lie, we both know you weren't asleep.

Oh sweetie, I can worm my way into you in more than one way. Let's not be naïve.


Walk. Talk.

I'm so FANCY