Hideaway Strath I want to do all the things your lungs do so well

It seems she takes mercy on a poor old beggar. For shes coming back to quench the thirst he has for her — a thirst that is never satiated and forever growing. The feeling only increases when she’s kissing sweet kisses to his furred cheek. Unbeknownst to him, he’s maw twists onto a horribly corny, lovey dovey smile.

He continues on to say what he said before shes raises her cute paws to shove gently at his pale chest. He chuckles and goes willingly, not one complaint from in the least. He finds himself lying flat and she doesn’t hesitate to climb on top of him and seat herself on her thrown. Another rumble comes from deep within his chest as a pleased hum when she nuzzles against him. 

Then he’s the one being surprised when she’s promising him she would never let it happen. She’s never let them hurt him. It’s so passionate, fierce, fiery — so very Simmik of her. He loves it — he loves her. His eyes even widen slightly and his brows raise a fraction.

“Oh.” He says dumbly, awestruck by the intensity of her words and the way she says them. “Fuck.” He breathes then, not noticing he was holding his breath in the first place.

Wrapping thick limbs over her shoulders he reaches up as far as he can and squishes her against him violently. A wet nose trailing her neck before lapping at her muzzle. “I love you so much, Simmik. I trust that you won’t let them kill me.” He says the last sentence with a huff of a laugh.