A midnight Mendacium dance

There was a feeling of satisfaction in that brief moment as her plan played out perfectly, the two dire wolves tumbling head over heels with one another and allowing her to at least temporarily get him onto his back despite his jaws still being latched onto her throat. However, Alastor's sheer strength was something she could never really match and he proved that yet again as he flipped her over onto her back once more. This time his paws moved to her shoulders, roughly pinning her to the stone and making it impossible for her to wriggle or twist away no matter how hard she pulled against his grip. What little air she was still able to breathe was cut off as his grip on her throat grew tighter, cutting off her breathing with a strangled gasp. She felt his teeth pricking into her skin and she knew without a doubt now that she had lost–but only in the sense of the fight. She knew that for everything that would come after she would still very much be getting a prize.

Finally she relented as her vision began to swim, a grin crossing her lips as her eyelids fluttered. She relaxed under him, but kept the hold she had around the back of his neck, her claws hooked firmly into the thick fur of his scruff. With his hind legs planted between her own it was easy enough for her to lift her hips a bit and hook her hind legs around his waist with the last bit of conscious thought she had. They may have gotten older and mellowed with age and parenthood, but that didn't mean a rough fight with her husband didn't turn her on any less. She pulled herself up into him and his hips down into hers until she felt the firm press of his most sensitive parts against her own. Any sound she might have made was cut off, but a tremble of lust still ran through her all the same as she silently begged her soul mate to claim his prize.

"Manea Mendacium"