Dragoncrest Cliffs & all of the ghouls come out to play (mtr.)

He murmured something in the midst of some dizzying staccato of her heart slamming against her ribcage; she was already moving before the words left his heated mouth, her motions clumsy with obedience and her own sensual docility. As much as he may thrive for the bad, she simply wanted to be good for him; wanted him to see how good she could be to him, letting him take her here like this, where anyone could walk in. Most of all, she wanted him to claim her, deep and resolute, wanted a tortorous pace that made her plea for her release.

All her addled mind knew was an order and she was more than willing to submit, to carry it out; absolutely anything to have him closer, in her, become one with her through and through. She worked her willowy frame underneath his looming figure, fluttering chest and thin ribs molding into the loam. The herbalist rested her weight into her foreams as her belly followed suit; her spine arched, before she poked her hips up into the air for him. She kept herself dutifully quiet, only moving her head a fraction to eye back at him; soft ears flickering back against his muzzle, his cheek. Whatever came out of her mouth from this moment onward would be meant for his ears alone.

A ragged breath left her, his fangs at her nape, the fronts of his thighs straining at the back of hers. Quivering so hard beneath him, in anticipation for what was to come; for all that she didn't know and everything that she wanted to feel. And then— and then the length of his cock nestled against her core, slipped along her sex with every breath he took. Whenever he meant to shift it to her entrance, her breath became almost choked, stuttering; the anticipation peaked to an all-time high, and all that ever mattered anymore was just Vercingetorix finally inisde of her, pressing into her and filling her up—