Larksong Grotto white fog

faust did not shy away.
instead, he moved—a shadow, writhing in the small space. a shift in the air, a shift in him. his body curved around hers, close, commanding, a silent claim in the way he stood near enough for her to feel the heat of him.
no, he said, but the word was weighted, thick, full of something unspoken.
his muzzle dipped lower, lingering just beside her ear before pulling away, slowly, savoring the space between them. his breath was warm where it fanned over her skin, teasing, testing, daring.
you come with me.
not a request. not a suggestion. a decision already made.