Honeyed Pasture great scott

*owen wilson voice* wow

eyes closed; she had not only allowed his closeness, she purred against it, catlike against a backdrop of his own breath. which he scarcely forgot to do; his body irritatedly shifted to manual and his voice skittered in his throat. worshipful, wanting nothing more than to follow the guiding desires of his body and trail his lips to her shoulder —
oh. oh, she was leaving; business to attend grinding lionel up out of his tumnescent stupor and into reality once more. "uh. right," he stumbled ineloquently. there was laughter in her eyes, this — what was she? didn't matter — inviting him to see her again? 
tail stirred at his hips, unbidden, but his throat was still recovering, and so lionel only watched her go, curvaceous and vital against the backdrop of the flatland, storm cloud fading and taking some piece of him with her.