Witch's Marsh Oh [m]y God, she looks so helpless, and her body's saying: "Hell yes."

Xan was neither chased away nor snapped at, but encouraged. It was swiftly thereafter that he’d adjusted his position, aligning his body with hers just in time to feel her pushing back against him. It was his first time with a female—he still wasn’t entirely sure if his friend from the coast could really be called a woman or not—and so a few minor adjustments had needed to be made. The task was an easy one, however, for his mind was not currently his to control. Instincts alone guided his every movement, forcing for his conscious self to do nothing more than sit back and enjoy the show—and what a show it was, for the moment he’d made his first thrust, nothing else seemed to matter. There was something vastly different from bedding down with another male and doing the same with a female in heat. It felt as if every nerve was on end, and awoken his body in ways that he never would have thought possible, had he not been experiencing it for himself right then and there.

A tight grip was kept on her scruff as he continued the motions of his hips. Though he’d started off slow, he’d been quick to then speed up, rocking his body against hers as he took all that wanted. And when the time came for his member to swell within her, he’d released her at last with a huff fleeing passed his lips. Xan was not unfamiliar with the feeling of bliss that came with release, but it was different now. Rather than being able to pull away, he was stuck, intertwined with her very being. It was entirely new, but not undesirable, and so he’d lingered atop her rather than twisting off immediately. There was a brief moment where he’d attempted to continue moving against her, but the idea was abandoned after one or two tries. The albino had settled, then, on nosing through her fur, allowing for her scent to further lay claim to his mind.