Splish Splash I was Taking a Bath

Manea confirmed that she still liked what she saw, and from the dark fire smoldering in her aqua gaze, Alastor knew she wasn't just saying that to make him feel good or boost his confidence. He grinned at her, squeezing her svelte body in large paws while a low chuckle vibrated in his chest. She really made him feel all kinds of ways no other wolf ever could. She made him feel strong, handsome, desirable, flawless, rare, unique. When he was with her, Alastor felt like there was nothing he couldn't do. When he was with her, he felt like he was where he was always supposed to be. He'd never put any stock into faith or deities or any higher powers in his life, but Manea made him believe that perhaps there was something to be said about her family's ideals of ancient spirits and soul mates—and maybe, just maybe, he'd found his in the royal violet fae.

His mate's purring words about maybe doing as he suggested and clawing up his furless body sent a thrill of lust through Alastor's body that settled like fire between his thighs. More vibrating murrs were pulled from the dire brute while his wife's claws worked their way over the curvature of his muscles, following the planes of his bare chest until her leonine paws were pressed flat against his pecs. There was a sudden push of weight, and the next thing Alastor knew, he was being rolled onto his back with Manea's body was draped across his like a luxurious fabric and she was straddling his prone form. Obsidian eyes blinked with surprise up at her, but the lecherous grin welcomed her advances, staring up at his beautiful, sexy mate while she held herself above him with the fur blankets hanging off her shoulders around them. Her mouth came down to tear his throat and Alastor tipped his muzzle up to grant her unrestricted access to his most vulnerable part, happy sighs escaping him while she kissed and nipped down his bare throat. She asked if he would like her to claw him up, leave scars on his chiseled body for the world to see where she'd claimed him. The idea was tempting—indescribably so.

Alastor gave a rumbling growl that voiced his lust for his mate, his perfect violet goddess perched atop him like she was meant to be there. He would have responded, had she not stolen his breath when he felt her hips shift back to press into more sensitive parts of his anatomy, drawing gasping groans from the dire brute. His paws moved down her sides to rest of her hips, claws prickling through soft fur to find delicate skin. He pushed his hips back up against hers, rolling into her movements in reply. He huffed, breathing turned short and heavy while she teased his skin with her feline claws. Pure lecherous desire burned in his abyssal eyes for her, his gaze never leaving her slender, supple form on top of his. "I think you should take advantage of all of me while you can, my love," he replied in deep, rumbling baritone, pushing his hips back up to hers to emphasize his insistence to her. Manea certainly knew how to make him feel masculine and manly again, even if he was fully naked of fur anywhere on his body.

"Alastor Mendacium"