Twisted Slough You've never seen a bastard orphan [m]ore in need of a break

He came close to wounding her, if only by a little. She gasped in delighted shock, countering with her own playful hits with her paws. She hadn't played like this since she was a small child, but back then there was no end goal: only fun. 

He was growing closer; she sensed it. And as she did, her movements went from childish to sensual. Her nips became licks and kisses, her movements slowed down so she could deliberately press herself against him when she could. The game changed into a dance, a tango.