Swiftcurrent Creek Night snake

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making some assumptions, let me know if you’d like to change anything <3

Spent and spoiled and still the earth was dampened beneath their prone embrace when morning lent its first early touches of blush light. The coy’s eyes slowly open to a lock of arms. Her breaths grow labored in memory of his teeth and her whines; how she’d thrown her head back in praise and devoured him through the night. Eventually, though she would not recall exactly when, they had tired, and she wondered if he thought them grotesque; two plain animals basking in their sweat.

In sleep the creek man was still and steadfast. A longing for his eyes trails through her, and although the nature of her want had not changed, its agency had. Her paw snakes forward over his textures- rough things like the melee of scars and calloused feet. Smooth things like the crimped silk of his wrist, teasing a gossamer touch.

She plies a single kiss to @Akavir's lips, then nips his maw mischievously.

These occluded hours belonged to them. Only later would she think of leaving, its lethal sting.

Sleep had come eventually, as much as he had tried to keep it at bay. Enlightened in Eset’s embrace—as if stirred back to life, Akavir found himself mourning already the time lost between them as he felt a paw trail along him—a kiss planted upon him.

He swallowed the words he wished to speak then—how nice it would be to wake up like this every morning—and instead, paws reached for her warmth, hoping to pull her flush against him once more as his own lips would continue to explore her cheeks—her throat—her own lips.

“What is it the kids say, these days?” He hummed softly, head tilting back to study her with quiet amusement and appreciation. “If I lick it, it’s mine.”

Thus, he proceeded to stake his claim.

Akavir’s kiss is the heat that precedes a fire. A breathy simper is freed from her throat and she snaps at his tongue with her teeth, writhing within his engirdled arms. It is not the body of obedience she had given to her visitors, nor does his possession overwhelm in a way to earn her ire. She slips herself against the dark captivity of his arms, hungered eyes finding his own. She will remember this; Akavir's deeply handsome face glinting amusement, the two of them locking in a den near the river with laughter reverberating over the walls.

When the dust in the valley nile swarmed her she put it from her mind. She wanted to worship this dark man with her teeth until he dropped in her arms like a spent priest.

“First you must catch 'it', river-wolf,” she curls her lip and wriggles from his grasp, storming currents of her blood beating through surging steps. She falls to her feet in a playbow, teasing him before tearing off through the sylvan woods.

A drawn out kiss—he was about to spill his reverence of her when she slips from his grasp, causing his hooded gaze to open wider now, his form to prop up as he studies her with a lingering pout on his darkened features that she was no longer in arms reach.

No sooner did he begin to open his mouth did she bow down with a playful wiggle—the action eliciting an unashamed and burning stare of his eyes to the curve of her rump before she leaps away.

Never before had a man scrambled so fast to his paws in the world, he was certain—but even as he careened in the direction she went, she was far more sprightly and nimble than he—but, perhaps, never before had another been so entirely smitten and eager—and thus, the drumming of his paw steps were fleeting after her, as he worked to earn another embrace or kiss from the mysterious desert woman.

The wind is in her face, bringing aromas of pine through the creek wolf’s arbors and thickets. Her tail threshes the air. He's a dusky shape shadowed by trees on the traces of her hocks. His temper is tasted on the breeze, bright and alert like mint, tightening that pain low in her stomach, making her relive what they’d done the night before. She’d lost her mind, thinking about those things.

Pushing from the trees, the coy snakes up into the undergrowth, coiling secretly to strike. She listens for his thud of earth, clacking paws as they pound grass and stone. When he passes a loping step catches his wrist, snapping mischievously at strands of dark cheek. She lends a phantom kiss to his throat before bucking away to square up, light-footed grace before the much taller and broader man.

“Now I will have you,” as she wanted him, gaze flicking between glass eyes, lowering slowly to Akavir's lips.