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01-16-2017, 07:29 PM
A grin crossed his thick, dark lips as the golden siren neatly folded into him, leaning into his chest as he cupped her close. His ears tipped forward, approval flashing through his eyes as she expressed a need to stay close, “Do you know that was how I started in the Edge? Crafting, and eventually becoming Glazier.” His low, quiet rumble was an offhand comment, a simple sharing of knowledge that would have been denied each other earlier in their relations by the distance between their herds. But any thoughts of sharing nonsense that create the entire vitality of love were swept away with her next, softly cooed words:
“Because I’m pregnant, Temb.”
His body stiffened—not out of fear or anger. But out of shock. “Preg—?” his low rumble cut out, unable to find the breath that had escaped his body in a loud, disbelieving woosh. The tenseness of his neck around Rexanna was almost too much—he forgot to temper his strength with the awe that struck him so soundly in his great chest.
His nostrils flared, ribs floundering for breath to say something—anything. But, instead, he simply jerked into motion, beck slipping from her neck to her back, pulling her silken, golden, spotted self even closer (if that was even possible). “I did not think—” again his voice cut off; though, of course, Rexanna already knew that the Elephant King did not know if he could still sire children.
Finally, after blinking away the brightness of his navy eyes (one will never know if the Elephant shed a tear), his hoarse voice finished a coherent thought, “You could not have told me better news, my love.” And he proceeded to run his muzzle all long her loin and haunch—blissfully happy to have Rexanna as his own.
Mbwene, having the joy of her bonded overflow to her, reached out her trunk and tightlysqueezed hugged the snow-frolicking Marembo right in the polecat’s marbled middle. She chortled happily to both him and herself.
“Because I’m pregnant, Temb.”
His body stiffened—not out of fear or anger. But out of shock. “Preg—?” his low rumble cut out, unable to find the breath that had escaped his body in a loud, disbelieving woosh. The tenseness of his neck around Rexanna was almost too much—he forgot to temper his strength with the awe that struck him so soundly in his great chest.
His nostrils flared, ribs floundering for breath to say something—anything. But, instead, he simply jerked into motion, beck slipping from her neck to her back, pulling her silken, golden, spotted self even closer (if that was even possible). “I did not think—” again his voice cut off; though, of course, Rexanna already knew that the Elephant King did not know if he could still sire children.
Finally, after blinking away the brightness of his navy eyes (one will never know if the Elephant shed a tear), his hoarse voice finished a coherent thought, “You could not have told me better news, my love.” And he proceeded to run his muzzle all long her loin and haunch—blissfully happy to have Rexanna as his own.
Mbwene, having the joy of her bonded overflow to her, reached out her trunk and tightly
When the heart is on fire,
stop chasing the rain.
image |Tablestop chasing the rain.
@Rexanna UGH STOP IT WITH THE MUSHY CUTENESS
I can't.
Please tag Tembovu.
