Redtail Rise black flies on the windowsill

As soon as she had eased into things—and perhaps he as well—all that mattered ceased to exist. From there on it was only about reaching the end game and being rewarded with the prize of having fulfilled some biological imperative. He was no fool however, having tempered long seated desires to smolder past the breeding season; letting the past come to life, at least how he and his sisters had come to be, was not something he sought to see repeated.

Yet the release he found was something he had been looking for. Not quite the pancaea to cure all, but it was enough. Far too easy to disregard moments or minutes however small that passed, he focused on her and the sway of her body; her responses or lack thereof told him what he needed to know. He heeded no details, coitus was coitus, and one's healthy imagination could fill in the blanks.

When all was said and done, he was spent and left to collect himself in ways he could muster. A certain flush had rose itself imperceptibly beneath his tousled coat and he found lingering affection soften his features. His muzzle swept over her as he came to her side, reaching to gently preen at tangled locks around before him or left in his wake. His eyes were half-lidded, unquestionably evident in how pleased he was—but was she?

well in that case i dont feel so bad for this post then lmaooo. >_>;