Greatwater Lake a hidden gem, my own goldmine

@Khaba just wanted some more interaction with these two! pspspsps's him like a cat

The serpent is alone. Terracotta mud caked to her paws, she sits beneath a red maple, just adjacent to her great Lake's shoreline. She is calm and serene, eyes half-lidded and body languid, tail wrapped neatly up and over a hind leg. 
The Lake's water ebs and flows. It is gentle, forgiving, and Zaahira does not touch it today. She appreciates it only from afar. 
Slowly, she sinks down toward the ground with bunched-up shoulders and a low groan. Tucking her forepaws up close to her bony chest, she curls into her body and shivers with the wind as it brushes up against her back. 
The wind alone was enough to make her wonder if perhaps she could earn herself some company. 

The silence—he craves it. 

Constant sounds flood his ears day by day. Whines of the infant, snarls toward the incompetent, and the overall, irritating chirps of nature. If nothing else drives him to insanity, this just might do the trick.

Perhaps it was loneliness he felt. Zharille had vanished, as had Nazli. Both crucial individuals to his livelihood. 

And yet... he refused to admit it. Any of it.

On and on life would go, as if nothing at all was the matter. A tight lip, and a firm grasp one what now belonged to him.

He'd nearly managed to miss the form of Zaahira as he sauntered past, lost in thought. But when a whiff of her scent was tugged near, he halted. Part of him thought to leave her be, but how could he be so selfish as to let both of them suffer this silence?

Slithering close, Khaba drew his snout along her shoulder, placing a small kiss where his nose parted the blade. 

If she did not argue against his company, he would lower close beside her, offering the warmth of his body, should she desire it.

Although it was typical for man to focus his affections on one woman, Khaba was not limited to one. For he had many under his protection! And for this service, he had the choice of which he would show fondness, whether this be to one, or to all.

Zaahira did not even have to ask. Nor did he. 
She accepts his presence with a welcoming, soft thump of her tail and a lazy smile, eyes hooded as she watches his body move. The heat of his breath and wet of his saliva are welcomed, though such desires are only expressed through a shudder that whips down her spine. 
Soft pink underbelly is exposed to him with an adjustment of her hind leg. She is warm and virginal. A temptation given the time of year, one she is slowly becoming aware of. The warm coil within her belly turns and twists, but she would not force it. 
The individual scents of his children are thick on his pelt, fresh and new; she has not yet met them, and her maternal instinct presses at her for more information about them. If  he would not tell her in words, she would find out in smell. The tip of her tongue slithers from between her lips, brushing against his chin. A gesture that did not need sound for its intention to be known, yet a soft whine follows it anyways. 

She does not push him away—but she welcomes him, and he takes full advantage of this.

Pressing close, he coils himself around her, forcing her tightly within his embrace. The possessiveness he had was shown quite clear, but he was not ashamed of this.

Feeling the warmth of her breath against his face, he could not help it when the faintest of growls rumbled in his chest. 

Slow and gentle, his tongue slithered its way across her muzzle. He intended to get every inch of satisfaction from their time here, as they hadn't had much before now. Every breath, touch, and sound would be relished, as though it may be his last. Though, really, it never would be. 

Or so he hoped—

With soft, parted lips, she is gracious in her acceptance of every touch he makes and is eager to reciprocate, should he allow for her to do so. Her body is electric, alight with sparks that ignite with the feeling of warm breath against her chin and strong limbs that wrap around her.  He takes what he desires from her and she allows it with the hidden knowledge that really, she is the one in power. She could tell him no, and chooses not to. 
When there comes a natural pause, Zaahira's gaze catches his own. In that moment, she is almost overwhelmed. The bright, yet steely silver that looks back at her strikes not fear, but admiration within her. 
But she has grown reckless. Vulnerable. Unhinged; uninhibited. And perhaps he knows this. She wonders if that is why he has come to her side. 
Khaba, the word comes out in a soft whisper, trembling, yet full of warmth. why? 

She cannot stop the silent tears from welling in her eyes.