Firestone Hot Springs [m] Wild Childs, Lookin' Good

Legend’s approach was slow, measured, her belly brushing against the ground as she crept forward, eyes fixed on Machiavelli with a mixture of curiosity and hesitation. She moved as a shadow, drawn toward the peculiar gleam in his gaze and the promise of whatever secret he guarded so zealously. She paused just behind him, her heart fluttering with anticipation. Her head tilted, gaze narrowing as she cautiously leaned closer, the warmth of his presence mingling with the scent of herbs and game.

With a breath into the soft air, she inched her nose over his shoulder. "What is it that we getting?" she murmured. Her voice was hushed, reverent. She let her gaze flicker to his eyes, her curiosity barely restrained with the patience of a predator waiting for its prize. She fantasized lovingly about being prey.

There was a playfulness in the way she lingered near him, her form practically molding into the shadows he cast, ready to follow wherever this fun game might lead.