Wheeling Gull Isle wet

Her mouth did not utter the word no and her body no longer elicited her unconscious reservations, but the man was in no hurry and would give the shrouded sylph the space she needed to be a peace with his holy advances — he had faith that she would come around. There was nothing beautiful or divine about using force during a time which called for intimacy, nor did it satisfy the omnipotent’s cravings for utter, inspired, and passionate devotion; Komodo was not a slave to his desires and as thus, he entertained no considerations of displeasing the gods, or her, in such a way. 

But while she mused upon her options, there was a space of prolonged silence with which Komodo used as an opportunity to cosset the transcendental stranger further, using thick and viscous swipes of his tongue to suggestively push the fur above her tail against the grain. The earthstalker’s mind had since surrendered to the task, taking in all the sights and smells and taste of her, giving himself over fully to his actions. The man wanted to perceive this gift through his five senses and, similarly, help the young fae surrender to hers. There was a moment where he pressed his cheek into the point of her hipbones and rubber his angular jaw against her form, letting his eyes slip closed and feeling the eroticism that emanated from her act of simply standing there as he kneaded against her — in this carnal game they played they were both equals  but covering her with his scent fanned the red-blooded flame that burned in his gut and flickered throughout his being.

Prurience shellacked his brain and the man began his descent south, using his mouth to further map the peaks and valleys of her hips and her thighs, edging so close to his ultimate target that his breath could caress her hot flesh. He lingered there for only a moment before continuing his trek. Komodo was not only a drifter in his everyday life as a vagrant, but he conveyed similar traits in his manner of loving; electing not to loiter upon one spot of Aria’s body for longer than several, interminable seconds before moving on. The brute grazed her backside of her knee with his teeth and planted libidinous kisses upon her feathered hocks before making the transition to her other leg and then reversed the process until the man ended right back where he started. It was then that Komodo turned back to the bloodied corpse of the hare, re-doused his maw in the lifeblood of the slain [for good measure] and turned back towards the ethereal woman that presented herself before him. The deep growl that rolled from his chest never abated. 

He swung one thick forelimb over her back and paused, giving the stranger another chance to withdraw.