Whitebark Stream put your ring back on honey-tits, you haven't had enough porridge this morning (mtr.)

kunnhehku defies his sultry command and for the briefest of moments wintersbane is insufferably insulted. he might hold her like a queen in the cradle of his hips but if he is to play the part of warlord he bows to no queen, irregardless of whether she was born of sweet moonbeams, regardless of how she might've reminded him of his dark priestess. he nips at her ear again and gives a punishing and snap of his hips against her's a rasping and defiant no. rumbling in a weak growl that is more groan than it is anything else. he half has the mind to withdraw, to torture her ...but that would only be torturing himself and she is like a vice around him anyway. he doesn't think, at this point, he could even if he wanted to ( and that is to say he does not want to ).

his legs began to quiver from his own weight, from bearing it upon tiptoes and the delicious heat of her. it's all right there, right within his grasp. all it would take would be the swallowing of his pride. the game and squabble of dominance in their current position was only fun for a while and the truth was he was close to release. he quakes against her, forelegs digging harder, as if that could stave off the inevitable.

please kunnhehku. follows his eventual sigh of surrender.