Hideaway Strath If it wasn't for bad luck...

This game is full of brushing pelts and odd, sultry glances. Just barely there touches turning into ones he can’t even try to ignore. Not that he would want to anyway. 

This blackbird beside him follows him back to the corpse, at first she’s not too horribly close. Until she is. The barely there touch of their shoulders and the glint of glacier blue eyes, he can’t help but stare back. For a moment, even as she devilishly eases back over to him. Their hips brush first, then the rest of their bodies, and before he knows it she’s pushing her way into his space. A comical stealing of the piece of food he was going to grab and he knew before but now it was unmistakable. She’s playing with him in the most delicious of ways and he is Mcloving it.

His massive head turns to smile his own devilish grin at her. “You going to keep teasing me?” He asks, a quirk of a cream brow at the female beside him. He’s pressing closer to her as well and if allowed he’d lean closer to use his front teeth to sift through the thick, black fur of her scruff. A black tongue snacking out to lap at the love of her ear. 

“You wouldn’t want to go back to my den tonight? Maybe we could go on a nice little hunt in the morning.” A pause and a chuckle. “If you can walk.” He hums suggestively.