Fox's Glade [m] Patient as I bury my wrath under pink lightning

I feel wonderful, She murmured, reaching out with pale claws and pink toes spreading out to brush through the fur at his cheek. Slowly she traced his features, then drew his face toward hers for a kiss. You make me so happy.
Has anyone ever told you how pretty your eyes are? Her voice was low with renewed desire. Reverie kissed him again, not giving him time to answer. Time turned warm and liquid all around them, a slow melting of gold and silver, and she knew then that she loved him.
She kissed him a third time to stifle her confession. Not now; not yet.