Starglow Basin [m] look what you [m]ade me do

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soto does regret it -- almost immediately.

he longs to pull her svelte body to him; to feel the riffle of her silver fur against his own as he climbs atop her. his breath hikes as he envisions that coalescing, all-encompassing warmth as he slides within her -- a great longing that crackles along his abdomen.

but the moment is gone immediately, replaced now with a bitter tension.

another tinge of regret then, for the rough manner in which he'd shoved her. two insults lumped in one.

he understands just enough to know her laugh was not in mirth but in bafflement - and the words that leave her tongue thereafter string together as if a curse.

now fiamma storms off, leaving just soto and the amazon.

his single eye slides to her, apprising. but if he cannot have fiamma, he cannot have her. his appetite must be whetted in other ways.

that night he'd think of them both, and leave evidence of such in a long string of pearly fluid hanging unpleasantly in some secret corner.

she speaks, but he cannot read her gaze or understand her words. a shame, for he'd likely swell with pride to hear her speak of his truest weapon.

but one word he understands. his ears clip forward, assessing the query in her expression. bushtit. soto parrots back, searching her face for more context.  in his next breath he knows. no.