Her voice is a fearless proclamation of protection
She lives what's within her out loud
She lives what's within her out loud
Wessex cannot purr, but Hotaru certainly can, and she does at the notion of flying together. It is such an intimate act, and already she yearns for it. The mech-bird might be capable, but there’s something enchanting about the idea of the two of them, alike in size and form, so far in the heavens nobody can touch them. I would love to fly with you someday, she is finally able to verbalize, though the rumbling purr and flow of emotion that preceded it had already translated the words long before Ru gave them life.
The easy contentment twists into playfulness as Wessex’s small, sharp teeth wrap around her paw. Her toes spread and flex, claws still harmlessly contained, to bat at the long snout as best she can. A hot flush of lust and fluster sweep through her at the boldness of her companion, reminded vividly of that first night beneath the moon at the lakeside, Wessex giving the Valkyrie her first ever bite scars. A scar that still remains even now on the highest inner point of her thigh. Wessex! she scolds, but it’s entirely bluster, taken by surprise quite pleasantly. Normally she’s the flirtatious aggressor after all. The surprised yelp that the woman gives doesn’t translate well to feline vocals, more of a startled mrrp, as the illusions spring into being as if they’d always been. So real they’re distracting. But Wessex’s true form is warm and solid and unmoving below her, and so Ru rolls to flop the front of her body over the kitsune in a heavy but harmless pin, trying to ignore the distracting illusions. Don’t tempt me, dearest. I’ve found quite a few fun ways to use my lightning on your sensors, I don’t need a room to have you on your knees without a bite being involved. Because two can play at the bold game.
The easy contentment twists into playfulness as Wessex’s small, sharp teeth wrap around her paw. Her toes spread and flex, claws still harmlessly contained, to bat at the long snout as best she can. A hot flush of lust and fluster sweep through her at the boldness of her companion, reminded vividly of that first night beneath the moon at the lakeside, Wessex giving the Valkyrie her first ever bite scars. A scar that still remains even now on the highest inner point of her thigh. Wessex! she scolds, but it’s entirely bluster, taken by surprise quite pleasantly. Normally she’s the flirtatious aggressor after all. The surprised yelp that the woman gives doesn’t translate well to feline vocals, more of a startled mrrp, as the illusions spring into being as if they’d always been. So real they’re distracting. But Wessex’s true form is warm and solid and unmoving below her, and so Ru rolls to flop the front of her body over the kitsune in a heavy but harmless pin, trying to ignore the distracting illusions. Don’t tempt me, dearest. I’ve found quite a few fun ways to use my lightning on your sensors, I don’t need a room to have you on your knees without a bite being involved. Because two can play at the bold game.
