≡ sweet dreams are made of these
04-29-2013, 05:45 PM
"i am a nomad. i wish to join your congregation, your pack, of wolves," lucrecia's hiss invokes a sibilant whisper, slithering gracefully from soft, parted lips; her voice and their sensual, Scandinavian accent - trailing in its vapid crescendo, a feral song. lucrecia dips her svelte jaw in greeting the alphaess, yearning for newt's affirmation. she eyes the massive she-beast. newt's mammoth musculature, such a tall and sculpted body; toned, hard, almost masculine, that upon first impressions, lucrecia believed the large woman to be butch. she awaits the female's response, complacently.
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