Totoka River turn of the tides

each touch was like a brush stroke, each breath a surge of electricity. he let out yet another satisfied rumble, this one lower than the first, more primal. she pounced, catching him off guard and he stumbled back a few paces, a playful growl escaping his lips. he watched as she bounded away, a spectator as history began repeating itself once more. these girls and their games. why was he the one always giving chase?

he thought about the answer behind his question for no more than half a second before he was dashing off after her. he was a fish caught on a hook, and at this point she was just reeling him in. he lunged, purposely aiming to miss. this type of game was all too familiar to the inky ghoul, and one he played far too often.