Hoshor Plains lord hear me now, junkboats and english boys

her teeth snapped at the air, finding tufts of fur along his cheek. incensed, the male drove deeper, pushing from his reserves as he forced her to the ground in a gristly display of dominant power. it was in this moment iliksis felt the most defined: he breathed deep of her panic and a swell formed around his abdomen as she struggled beneath him. she, helpless and face down in the snow -- he, frothing with power, having her in the cusp of his command.

he was so intimately aware of her body struggling hard against his. he brought his muzzle down to her cheek, inhaling the fear that seeped from her in salty and tangible form. he was in control; he relished the feel of her vulnerable body beneath him. she had stopped fighting back, but he felt the tension of her body quite intimately.

for a while iliksis was mostly still -- his body was, anyway. as far as what stirred around his loins, it was not still, and it grew and grew in the manner of an insidious vine until it hurt to press it against anatha's struggling flank. he brought his elbows down upon her back and pressed his limbs to her throat, positioning himself directly behind her. for a moment he hung there, his body shivering with the intensity of his perceived power -- he savored that sensation deeply -- and with a single, controlling thrust, forced himself inside of her quivering body.