EZRA
Oh, so the lamb does have a spine? Well well well, isn't that something. Though to be quite frank you barely notice: you're busy shivering at the feeling of teeth on your wrist, a soft half-moan of appreciation leaving your lush and pouting lips. You can feel your pants growing deliciously tight, not even attempting to hide your erection as Fangs runs one hand over your hip and the other down your chest.But you do have enough attention remaining to open your eyes and glance at Blondie, a challenging smirk on your lips. Suddenly you're not really feeling like sharing, especially with a lamb playing at domme. "Call me what your want, darling," you reply with a shrug. Still, you have no issue obliging his request, shrugging off your loose fur robe, your chest already largely bare, toned and smooth and muscular from careful grooming, not manual work.
Oh but now Fangs is facing you, and his hand is on your skin, and fuck if the sudden bout of possessiveness isn't hot as hell. He's a fair bit shorter than you, but whatever: he carries it well. Letting your own hands slip under the bottom of his shirt, you lean against his ear with a deep, delicious purr, though your eyes never leave Blondie. "Only if you promise to make me sing."
And then, miracle of miracles, Blondie storms over, short as a gnome and all huffy and demanding but in the way a mouse might demand something from a cat. Fuck no, you've laid claim to this one- but you slip so you're standing behind Fangs and the little lamb can face him, your arms wrapped around him, chin on his shoulder, a wicked grin on your freckled face. "Oooh, look who's calling the shots now, hmm?" Without missing a beat you raise your teeth to Fangs' ear, biting on the lobe of it while your thumbs rest in the band of his pants. "I don't know, little mouse- maybe I don't want to share."
isn't it lovely, all alone
heart made of glass
my mind made of stone
