Ravensblood Forest everybody’s gone in the cotton and the corn [m]

lotte is the cutest! <3

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Though Arturo paid no mind to the brief rustle of underbrush it had drawn Lotte’s attention …and her dominance. In all likelihood it was probably no more than a rabbit or some other small and nonthreatening woodland creature but the gangster had to admit that seeing her body — surely a maestro’s masterpiece! — rigid with dominance was something glorious to behold. Abruptly, Ceannasach was reminded of the stories of the women warriors his mother used to tell him about to lull him to sleep as a small child. The details were long since blurred but Lotte had struck him as such and for a brief moment Arturo is left to wonder through the siren’s call of her hormones to his how he was so lucky. Lotte is a blessing to the gangster and he strives to repay her for the love and light that she had brought into his life though most days his attempts feel meager. Still, he tries because she is worth everything he can give her and more.

His steps pause, hesitation gripping him as his approach is met with the flash of her teeth and the flight of her paws. Her whine beckons him closer and it is almost too much for him to resist but somehow Ceannasach manages with only a tremble of his legs in effort. He wanted to give in, to move towards her in advance once more but he is struck with the consideration that perhaps (in his eagerness) he has misunderstood. Perhaps she is not ready as he thought her to be. With Duana it had been a mutual blur of heat and false passions and Ceannasach had taken what she was willing to give him without much regard for her true wants (how very ungentlemanly of him) but Lotte is not Duana. He respected Duana, of course, but Lotte is his only and true love, his Queen and that demanded something entirely different of Arturo. Her question breaks Arturo from his revere as he worked to distract himself from the call of her body, his gaze burning low, accompanied with a curious tilt of his head, perplexed by her inquiry. What kind of question is that? Part of him desires to ask but he does not. The want to scoff at such a silly inquiry was strong but he bid it back because she truly sought his reassurance. She worried about it, he realized. It seemed so absurd to him! He, who could love no other!

“I want you always, Lotte. I love you always,” Arturo confessed as she moved nearer, her scent overpowering. He drinks it in deeply, allowing it to tempt him in a way he allowed no other. This was not the first time he’d told her that he loved her but he doubted she’d even heard him the first time the admittance of both great strength and weakness came from his lips and it seemed to be a good way to assure her that he wasn’t going anywhere. He drew in a rugged breath as she drew the tip of her tail along his nose, his whiskers trembling with heavy need, a ghost of a step forward was taken before she moved out of his reach and the cold was left to smack him in the face though it still carried with it the scent of her estrus and the chill is hardly acknowledged by the coywolf. “You are my love, my wife, my queen and there is nothing that will ever change that.” He speaks with an air of authority broken only by a soft breathlessness to his deep, accented smoky timbre. It is hard for him to think but his words come from his heart and they ring true. One day he would make her official queen of Teaghlaigh so that she might truly stand by his side in everything (for he already saw her as his equal in every way) but not until she tells him she is ready. Right now, his focus was on her and the idle thoughts of their decision of children and the future, the legacy that they would create this night for Teaghlaigh.

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