Sleepy Fox Hollow [M] The Ballad of Lonely Bear

he felt her heat before her skin met his. a trembling brush of velvet to velvet, the flicker of interest in her breath.
there it was.
that sliver of invitation.
that pulse of yes—maybe.
colosseum arched his neck to meet her—soft, slow, reverent—
—and then she exploded.
the shriek ripped through the hollow like a bird of prey loosed from her throat. her head snapped back, fire in her eyes, and colosseum only grinned.
ah, he breathed, low and half-laughed in his chest, just as her hips turned sharp.
the kick whistled past his chest—close enough to stir the hairs of his coat. his ears flicked but he didn’t flinch. she hadn’t meant to land it, and he knew the difference.
he stood still, planted like stone, watching her prance away with that look she always wore when she wanted to be followed.
not caught.
followed.
he huffed once—playful, indulgent—and gave a toss of his head, tail flagging as he stepped into her rhythm, hooves catching her beat in a slow, circling stalk. not rushed. not begging.
but there.
behind her.
with her.
his body curved with hers, tracking her like tide to moon.
colosseum always followed when fancy ran.