Moonspear is this the death of a bachelor?

She was surprised, totally surprised, by his physicality—she did not expect it, not one bit, and a large part of her enjoyed it. A larger part of her knew that this one was Lyra's and that while she could take her pick of anyone she pleased, she would not touch what belonged to her favorite sisters. There was a real claim on him. Rannoch had just been Roy. Terance was maybe Jim. And Hydra would not fuck that up for their sweet, darling little P. Hydra's foreleg flexed against him, and though she wiggled comfortably beneath him, she grounded them both: Hold on—this isn't what you want, even in their induced states and their fuzzy promises, he had yet to give himself a fair chance with Lyra. And she wanted him to have that chance. Good roleplay, though. You're going to make someone quite happy, if he kept this tough, strong-boy thing going, Lyra could be won. In the heat of the moment, she of course wanted to explore this further, but she would never in a million years do that to her twin.