Raven's Watch Her body is my canvas, painted with butterfly kisses

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It was unlike him to feel insecure, having been raised to be anything but. Ever since he could comprehend that which went on around him, Mazatl had been taught about and made to observe various activities; it was life for him and many others, something that could not be altered. Yet, as he stood there, staring at the man whose existence had ensured the continuation of his own, he could feel his nerves flaring to life—and it practically hurt. But, he could not allow for the unfamiliar sensation to overrule the only life that he had ever known, and so he swallowed down the thousands of butterflies trying to flutter up into his throat and drew himself nearer to the man.

Tilting his muzzle downwards, the yearling moved with the grace of a well-aged doe, his tail brushing against his thighs. He ran his nose through the fur along his master’s stomach, slowly inching closer to his final destination—which, after reaching, he proceeded to run his tongue along the length of. Stopping at the base, he touch ever so gently with his cold nose, right before releasing a whisper’s worth of a breath. Stilled, he hovered briefly, then returned to his gentle licking, each touch made with his tongue slower than the last.

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