Meadowlark Prairie whisk me away

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Heat thread #2

Keyni's heat raged on, like an untamed wildfire. There was no escaping it. The harder she tried to ignore it, the more intense her desire grew. She needed relief, like a starving animal needed water. And there was only one cure.

Her scent was still as thick and compelling as ever. Calling out to any who were near. A beacon with an unmistakable message. Written boldly, shamelessly. Out in the open, she scoured the prairie for any signs of someone who could satisfy her. Holding nothing back, like before, she raised her head and released her song of beckoning.

Pollen carried from the forest, the air was ripe with it; some tangled with his grass-stained fur. The man was a mess - having spent time within the dark and writhing forest bordering this meadow, rolling in dirt and flowers with another woman - but that was done, and a stronger scent drew him now.

He watched from the eaves for a while as this new stranger crossed the veldt. Her outline glimmered as the sun caressed her figure; Mesa was not one to notice beauty on the regular but he noticed this. Her movements were frenetic, and as she got closer he loosed a welcoming rumble in time with his emergence, striding confidently through the tall grass.

Imagine her delight when a strapping specimen answered her call. She turned towards the sound of his welcoming rumble, tail high, whipping furiously. Sure, he may be a total grass stained mess but that was of no consequence to her.

She dropped her front half down low in an inviting playbow. Then like a loaded spring, she excitedly bounded towards him. What a lucky fellow he was to have found her. That platinum and fawn kissed pelt of hers shone like it always did, thanks to her well kept routine. Openly, she flaunted her curves as she edged closer. Stiff legged and tense with excitement, she extended her nose for a first investigatory sniff.

This creature was different from the last. Where Jakoul was vulpine, this stranger was boisterous in the manner of an excitable filly, cantering about and clicking their heels. She dropped to a play-bow and journeyed closer to him; it was clear to Mesa what this invitation was for.

She moved to sniff at his fur and he did the same to her, a bit more obviously; he closed the gaps between them and drank in the many scents upon her coat — but the fact she was a pack wolf didn't change the primitive nature of this dance, for him. She clearly wanted something that only he could provide, or else she would have been at home.

A low crooning note carried from Mesa then. He made a hasty grab for her scruff, or a nip at her ribs, trying to entice her in the only way he knew how (roughly, as it happens). If she changed her mind at any point he was unlikely to notice.

He was receptive. Not shying away from her gestures. In fact, he was bold, moving in closer. She let him rake his nose through her fur, smirking slightly with pride. Encouraged, she traced the lines at the side of his neck. Warm and inviting, her breath heavy.

Feeling blinded by her lust and engulfed in his presence, she let out a low, pleading whine. All to stir him on. His voice made her shudder but there was no need for words. She had not anticipated the grab at the loose skin of her ruff so abruptly, but she adapted and took it in stride. Just as sharply, she turned to nip a little more forcefully at his jawline. Her teeth would not break skin, but she wasn't shy about expressing that she could play rough too, and take it.

Little time skip in here!

Leveraging himself was difficult given her size, but he was determined. She did not change her mind which was fortunate for Mesa as he wasn't willing to let her leave until he'd satisfied himself. He was passionate only so far as he had to be, and not soft, and not doting to her needs. It wasn't love-making but pure pleasure for the young man as he took full advantage.

[. . .]

Afterwards, when he was out of breath and jelly-legged from all the effort but otherwise content after the extensive workout, Mesa lazed in the meadow.

Their coupling was impassioned. Carnal. Rough. Exciting. The exact opposite of the tender doting from her first suitor, @Cerne. Thoughts of the soothsayer would come later, when the fires of her estrus were long expunged. For now, her voice mingled with his, a song of yips and growls.

Breathless, sore and weak in the knees, she had gotten what she came for. Neither of them had spoken a word. Neither knew each other's names. Maybe they never would. Keyni did not consider the odds of their paths crossing again. She took her leave, offering him one last parting glance with soft dip of her muzzle.