Bearclaw Valley [m] Take care of the sense, and the sounds will take care of themselves

When Arielle's teeth brushed through his fur, Aventus lost all semblance of control. He reached out to encircle her in his arms, but she danced lithely out of reach. With a frustrated growl, the Bruin-jaw padded after her, butting up against her hindquarters and trying once more to pull her into his embrace. Once more, she danced away. The smoldering eyes she made at him screamed that she wanted this. Her scent wrapping around his muzzle intoxicated him even more than her beautiful body already had. He parted his jaws to drink it in and felt his hips rock of their own accord. No matter how many times he tried, however, Arielle refused to let him have her until they were in the dark of Mosskeep.

When they were hardly past the entryway into the cave, Aventus let his patience wane entirely. He grazed his teeth roughly through the red fur at the back of her legs, drawing her scent in so that he could practically taste it. It overpowered his senses and demanded him to act. He had no idea what she was doing to him and no idea of the consequences; he knew only desperate desire. Aventus hooked his arms around her and pressed his muzzle into the fur on the nape of her neck with a shaky exhale, granting her a few precious seconds to get settled.