When in Doubt, We Cull

Holding her gaze, Zagan stared back into her half-lidded, acidic eyes. Their breaths were soft and steady- a rhythm that felt natural- his body shifting forward, gravitating into hers. This wasn’t the first time they’d been close- they shared hours of training sessions- had grown up in the same den. But there was a difference now- a subtle magnetism.

And Seri must have felt it too- she closed the gap between them- slowly and tentatively- brushing their lips together with a feather-light touch. He could taste the sheep’s blood on her mouth- the rich, coppery tang of arterial blood flooding his senses. It made his fur stand on end, and his quills bristle across his scruff- a visceral reaction. There’s that ache again- the throbbing sensation that started in his chest, and moved down into his gut.

And yet, despite this newfound thrill, Zagan was on the brim of becoming a full-fledged teenager- meaning, his perversities- his depravities- needed more time to develop. To grow. This allowed them to enjoy this fleeting moment of naivety. “That’s not what I had in mind.“ He said, keeping her close, even though she was pulling away. He was clinging to the aftertaste, and the exhilarating rush of adrenaline that followed the kiss.

“But,” He stole another glance, the brief eye contact carrying more weight than any words could. “You do taste good.” He didn’t give her a chance to react- he was leaning in, his lips parting slightly- the world around them suspending in a moment of electric thrill.

Then, it happened- their lips met again, only this time, it was deeper, longer, and more assured than the first- giving them both enough time to savor the moment- to really feel the crushing weight of all these new emotions.


"Zagan Saxe"