Deepwood Weald Diddly dee

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He shifted his weight slowly, testing the resistance, careful not to pull and hurt her or himself. Experience told him this would be a while yet despite that she was not in heat and it was ...unnecessary. While he knew she was not receptive and no children would come of this union his body did not. It was the basis of their desires, their entire existence he'd always considered: to reproduce. His partner was young but she had not been fumbling nor inexperienced and Arturo found that he appreciated it. Especially as she did not panic as young, inexperienced (which he knew from experience, ehem) wolves were known to do. His head swung back to study her over a svelte, albeit broad shoulder, studying the line of where his body ended and her's begun. His salmon pink tongue drew across his jowls as an image rose, unbidden in his mind, of a very different woman enjoying the last throes of their passion. There was a slight clench of his jaw and he looked forward offering her no inclination towards conversation. He had no desire to indulge personal information to her, though this was generally the gangster's rule of thumb when it came to strangers anyway. Moreso, he could not stand idle after sex chatter just to pass the time. He was a mystery and he deigned to remain that way.

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