Greatwater Lake but i'm not gonna go down with my hometown in a tornado

Alluring was the bird as she explores Zaahira herself. Whether she had intended for it to be mattered not. 
From Zaahira's lips comes a purring sound, low and throaty and ambiguous in intention. From there, her tongue moves again, this time brushing against the wet fur of Selena's throat. It is salty from the lake water. Her lip curls in a smile, one that spoke of pride and perhaps of some sort of wanting. 
The maiden is at her fingertips. She knows this, and treasures it. 
Teeth of ivory graze against the fur at the side of Selena's neck, a hiss drawing from low in her throat, foreign yet made of pure silk as the syllables pour out. Zaahira.