"the vulture feeds while it can, until there's no trace of man."

He hadn’t entirely been lucky the last time he had visited this pheromone and hormone laden glen. But he hadn't exactly been unlucky either. The small, pretty little mare that had fled from him before had stayed, spoken with him, even let him approach her. That was far more of a success than he had had in weeks. Part of him was beginning to worry if he was even potent anymore. Did pipes back up if they weren’t regularly used?

Though his fears were (mostly) lighthearted and in jest, there was a part of him that was tired of joking and pursuing the fairer sex. Albeit there was some fun in the chase, the vulture was of giant stature and thus grew tired of the pursuit. So, again, he returns to the Secret Grove. As always, one thought is on his mind, but there is a renewed vigor behind it. He isn’t one to hurt a woman, but today he just might pressure the right mare.

He walks through the thick willows, not daring to scare a woman off by flying and landing as he did before. And he is happy he did so, because only by his walking could he have fully appreciated the amply dappled haunches of a woman bending to the Grove’s pond. (Oh, how he hoped the pheromones leaked into and drugged the water, in this very moment).

White swathes painted along her back, acting to highlight the soft curve of her back and dip of her flank in the dappled light. Raptor eyes sharpen, the yellow and red irises missing nothing as they land on the antlers, and he is entranced. Surely this woman does this on purpose, as the water drips down her delicate face and finely arched neck. She has said nothing and already heat grows in his most prized appendage.

Thick, tawny limbs advance into the water, feathers spreading and swirling in the cool liquid. It is a pleasurable reprieve from the Tallsun heat; but not nearly as pleasurable as watching this enchanting, grey beauty. “You give a lonely man quite the show, my lady,” rough, deep voice calls from his place in the shallows. “However can I repay you for such a thrilling treat?”

G R A A S V O E L

"the vulture feeds while it can, until there's no trace of man."

He knows the woman does this on purpose now, a lady fully in command of or body and comfortable in her own skin. It is the most arousing thing a man could see, regardless of the beauty held by the woman. The vulture is lucky, however, that this slick-skinned, grey vision of a woman does, in fact, hold enough elegance for the both of them.

He had seen the women of the pleasure houses. Their moves were practiced, and their eyes knew the effect they had on men. This woman, however… Her moves were raw, naked in their authenticity. Though her eyes, those mesmerizing emerald pools tell a man that she knows the ways of her body. She can feel the effect the dripping water has on the man nearly gaping before as much as she feels the rivulet caress her skin. Oh, to be those droplets…

He finds his thick column of legs carrying his massive body towards her tall, but slender one; drawn in by the slowly seductive sway of her hips and wet flesh. His own slow, but confident strides do not mask any of his intentions; just as he is sure his bright eyes now blaze with arousal. Ears sweep forward to hear her voice, finding it gentler than he expected. His mind had crafted a husky purr for the siren—but her soft voice was more fitting, and (surprisingly) more alluring.

“That depends,” his husky murmur rumbles from his throat in answer to her question as his thickly crested neck reaches out, “Would touching require more payment?” His starkly black lips against his pale muzzle reach out to try and brush aside the wet forelock that sticks on her forehead and partly over her eyes. He wasn’t sure how he had gotten into such close quarters with the woman, so focused was he on her voice and the now raging heat between in thighs and in his veins. But he was glad had.

Water swirled in eddies around his stifles (the water would be a cool relief for their endeavors—provided he didn’t run this mare off, as well), caressing his skin as she purred a gentle tease to him. “You can give more than that?” a grin crossed his muzzle as his head gestured towards the deeper water, where she had let it run so easily across her curves, “I’m not sure I believe you,” his now gruff voice was laced with intention, desire, and a dare.

G R A A S V O E L

"the vulture feeds while it can, until there's no trace of man."

His ears flick sideways to catch her words answer his question of touching, and his nostrils flare as he catches her own deep breath taking his musk in. And he finds wildflowers and flowing streams, as well as wooded mint hidden beneath the bouquet of woman. “Complimentary?” his returned murmur was regressing into a husky, primal growl, “Then I’ll be sure to tip well.”

His aroused smirk turn into a full-fledged grin, returning her own smile— the fates had blessed him this day, for as the smile crossed her delicate features, it lighted them with a new, sensual beauty to the man. His blood roared with desire, flaring into his raptor’s eyes as black pupils stretched wide against yellow irises with lust.

He growled a chuckle as she winked at him, “Wekte verleidster,” his voice rumbled his native Korofi language, heat overwhelming his mind as her luscious haunches towards him. His shoulder surged forward, preparing to mount her—

But then the woman was moving away, slipping deeper into the pool. His ears, which had tilted back when he was about to rise, swung forward. Sharpened gaze of red and yellow watched her closely as her haunches purposefully swayed into the depths of the pool. Though the water obscured her splendid body from his vision, it would add a deliciously novel aspect to their play.

Her steps were slow, teasingly so. And he drank in the sight with eager, anticipating eyes. It was a show and a tease and an alluring promise all in her sensual, lovely movements. His gaze traced the trail of sparkling droplets along her antlers and throat, his lips again partially parting. And suddenly his legs were moving again of their own volition, following this dancer deeper into the water. His massive wings tucked tightly to his sides as the liquid dragged against his features; but he would not be deterred.

He drew closer to her, approaching her haunches. His heavy head dipped, muzzle brushing against the cool liquid’s surface. And then his thick neck reached out, wet muzzle seeking her dappled, tree-marked haunches—aiming to caress her smooth skin with wet lips, “Come, verleidster,” his growl was deep, guttural as he repeated his name for the woman, “Let me show you my payment.”



wekte verleidster= “sexy/arousing enchantress”

G R A A S V O E L

"the vulture feeds while it can, until there's no trace of man."

Her plush skin twitches beneath his lips, and he growls in response. Her hips twitch in teasing and wanting, and his own beg to buck in reply, aching to be astride the woman who had whipped his arousal in to a frenzy. Heat leapt to his skin where the flick of her tail sent droplets splattering— yet another taunt in the many she had given with her body. And, again, the man makes not to thank these Helovian gods that had finally smiled on him.

Her voluptuous curves and seductive motions of the woman’s body had hidden her age from him. But, as he hovered at her haunches, he realized that she retained more youth than any enchantress he had yet seen. His brows raised, equal parts suzprsied and anticipatory, “If you insist, my siren,” his guttural growl was primal as he surged to to cover her back of wet silk.

[fade to black]

He had had to slow down many times, so long had it been since he had partaken in such pleasures. But he had attempted to make sure they both were satisfied. He may be a slave to his own glutton for passion, but he was not a man who wished to be alone in his pleasure. It was better shared with a partner… repeatedly.

And, not yet willing to break contact with the woman who was so sensual and willing, his muzzle and cheek aimed to trace along her hips and back as he moved alongside her in the water. The liquid had felt delightful on his sensitized skin during their carnal passions and it had helped her slighter frame support him. So he was doubly glad she had walked deeper into the pool.

“What do I owe you, verleidster?” His quesition, though thoroughly sated, was genuine and honest. He did not know what whores in Helovia charged their patrons; perhaps he should have found out before mounting one, but any price would not have deterred him the moment he saw the woman in the water. “And what is your true name?” It was not often that the vulture asked for the names of whores. But this one was willing and pleasing and resplendent.

G R A A S V O E L