Trophy

She would speak again, and although he so badly wanted to continue to fight any meaning behind her tongue, he would ease himself into listening; by whaetever curious reasoning, he would continue to groom her, and somewhat soothingly he would answer her, ?What did you do, my little accolade?? A chuckle would rumble within his throat, drowned somewhat by the fibers he grasped between his incisors, gnawing gently. He would crane his nape, and he would again drag his tongue across her nape, down her shoulder, and come to rest behind her elbow, where he would again aim to groom at the bare skin that loitered there. The heat of her bloodstream so intoxicating against his gums.