[How is she supposed to do anything but squirm when his fingers brush through her mane like that, a quiver traveling down her long spine all the way to the tip of her tail in a reaction much like any woman might make if a man ran his fingers through her hair. Just... not on top of her head. A shoulder rises in half-ticklish response to the lips brushing against her neck, but her little laugh is tinged with a soft moan that rolls off her tongue, not just at the promise of his return but for the last squeeze of his hand, the accompanying release of pale milk that stains her dark breast and his strangely veined hands.
The moment he moves away, one of her own hands moves to replace exactly where his had been, as if she might be able to preserve the sensation of his touch to last her through his absence. And even though it might should be strange, the way his scales glitter along his skin, his new proportions, their far different parts... it isn't his body she was looking at. Well, it was, in the midst of her heat like this it very much was, particularly between the legs and how that made her nethers clench with want, but... She's also looking at his face, the promise there and the sparkle in his eye, the parts that made her hearts clench instead.
She's far too easy to tease. All it takes is that press of his length against her skirt-clad rump to make her lashes flutter and her sharp canines dig anxiously into her bottom lip, a more prominent stain from her dripping nethers left behind on the fabric in the shape of his cock. Not for long, though, her tail is freed to flick and rise to bare her to him, and the potpourri was useless now, the scent well and truly overcome by the musky betrayal of her arousal.
An arousal that is far too obvious, far too shameful, but what can she do about it? She'd tried, she really had tried to tend to it herself, her helper in that attempt now hidden in her dresser once more, but now his hands are on her rump, her croup is instinctively levering upwards a bit to try and present the best possible angle for him to "mount", dark velvet outer folds clenching and flaring to expose how wet she was, how her dark bay coat was even darker on her thighs where she's grown sticky, how bright the contrast of fresh pink was to black.
Was she ready? Her lips part and only a whine comes out at first, her body grown greedy and desperate for more, but she had to answer...]
I've been ready for hours...
[No, not just hours. Konoha swallows in anticipation, her hand on her breast squeezing in mimicry of his with a little trickle of milk from between her fingers, the rest whispered with a shameless meeting of his eyes, her own hazy with a mix of lust and reassurance.]
For days, Nikolai...
[Days of growing heat. So if he would just... If he would just take her... Have her... Calm her... Breed her...]
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The moment he moves away, one of her own hands moves to replace exactly where his had been, as if she might be able to preserve the sensation of his touch to last her through his absence. And even though it might should be strange, the way his scales glitter along his skin, his new proportions, their far different parts... it isn't his body she was looking at. Well, it was, in the midst of her heat like this it very much was, particularly between the legs and how that made her nethers clench with want, but... She's also looking at his face, the promise there and the sparkle in his eye, the parts that made her hearts clench instead.
She's far too easy to tease. All it takes is that press of his length against her skirt-clad rump to make her lashes flutter and her sharp canines dig anxiously into her bottom lip, a more prominent stain from her dripping nethers left behind on the fabric in the shape of his cock. Not for long, though, her tail is freed to flick and rise to bare her to him, and the potpourri was useless now, the scent well and truly overcome by the musky betrayal of her arousal.
An arousal that is far too obvious, far too shameful, but what can she do about it? She'd tried, she really had tried to tend to it herself, her helper in that attempt now hidden in her dresser once more, but now his hands are on her rump, her croup is instinctively levering upwards a bit to try and present the best possible angle for him to "mount", dark velvet outer folds clenching and flaring to expose how wet she was, how her dark bay coat was even darker on her thighs where she's grown sticky, how bright the contrast of fresh pink was to black.
Was she ready? Her lips part and only a whine comes out at first, her body grown greedy and desperate for more, but she had to answer...]
I've been ready for hours...
[No, not just hours. Konoha swallows in anticipation, her hand on her breast squeezing in mimicry of his with a little trickle of milk from between her fingers, the rest whispered with a shameless meeting of his eyes, her own hazy with a mix of lust and reassurance.]
For days, Nikolai...
[Days of growing heat. So if he would just... If he would just take her... Have her... Calm her... Breed her...]