With your wine stained lips
02-03-2015, 01:58 AM
His purposeful stride would come to a halt as his call would echo across the lands that his sister controlled. He would stand poised, a gentle night breeze drifting through, sending his grey fur flying this way and that, ebony tipped tail lashing from side to side, senses on high alert. Would his sister even want to come see him? There was a heavy scent of a male in the area and he could only assume that his sister had found a better fuck buddy than her own brother. A bit of bile rose up in his throat at the thought that some other had claimed his sister as his own and used her body whenever it pleased him, but he was here now and he didn't think it would be too hard to convince her to come back to him for good. After all, no one knew how to fuck her as well as he did. How could anyone else fuck her the way that he did if they had grown up together and he knew her as well as he knew his own four fangs?
He would stand quietly in the darkness, ears straining to catch the sound of her anticipated pawsteps. With each moment that passed, he could feel the organ in his chest beating harder and harder against its restraints. It was almost like...he was nervous to see her. But what reason did he have to be nervous? Was it perhaps because even if he didn't want to admit to himself, he had worried for his sister? He knew for a fact that she could hold her own. Neither of them could've made it this far without being able to take care of themselves, but like the scar that spanned the entirety of his massive chest, one couldn't always be too sure of what life come up with.
Though he would catch the sound of her pawsteps, the first thing that would capture his attention was the smell of blood; her blood. Immediately unadulterated rage would sizzle in his veins. Who the fuck had hurt Cataleya? It was only moments after he'd tasted her blood in the air that her familiar figure would come into view, blood leaking from a large gash on her chest to stain her moon-washed forelimbs. His gaze would keen in on her blood, ready to tear someone's throat out as soon as he found out who was responsible for having hurt his sister. But before he could do anything, her voice would snap him out his rage temporarily, capturing his attention as cyan gems would lock with her coral ones. She would stare at him, his name barely a whisper on her lips before she came barreling into him, her chest colliding with his, her wet hot blood mingling with his fur. But he didn't give a shit about how he looked like right. He wore blood more often than not anyways. At she buried her face in his neck, he could feel her smaller body trembling, something that he'd never felt before. The only time she trembled was when she was beneath him and he was fucking her senseless. That wasn't the case right now. Something had happened. Something that had fucked his sister up, both physically and emotionally. Two things that were unforgivable in his book.
He would tuck his massive skull around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, showing her the most tender side of him, a side that she very rarely, if at all, ever got to see. He would do his best to quell her trembling with his massive frame, pressing himself as close to her as possible without bringing any further pain to her injury. Why the fuck hadn't anyone come to treat her yet?! Heads were going to roll. I'm going to kill someone. Whether you tell me or not. He would murmur quietly into her shoulders, his special way of telling her that he loved her. He had been gone for long, but he was here and he was ready to murder whoever got in his path. Someone would pay for this.
He would stand quietly in the darkness, ears straining to catch the sound of her anticipated pawsteps. With each moment that passed, he could feel the organ in his chest beating harder and harder against its restraints. It was almost like...he was nervous to see her. But what reason did he have to be nervous? Was it perhaps because even if he didn't want to admit to himself, he had worried for his sister? He knew for a fact that she could hold her own. Neither of them could've made it this far without being able to take care of themselves, but like the scar that spanned the entirety of his massive chest, one couldn't always be too sure of what life come up with.
Though he would catch the sound of her pawsteps, the first thing that would capture his attention was the smell of blood; her blood. Immediately unadulterated rage would sizzle in his veins. Who the fuck had hurt Cataleya? It was only moments after he'd tasted her blood in the air that her familiar figure would come into view, blood leaking from a large gash on her chest to stain her moon-washed forelimbs. His gaze would keen in on her blood, ready to tear someone's throat out as soon as he found out who was responsible for having hurt his sister. But before he could do anything, her voice would snap him out his rage temporarily, capturing his attention as cyan gems would lock with her coral ones. She would stare at him, his name barely a whisper on her lips before she came barreling into him, her chest colliding with his, her wet hot blood mingling with his fur. But he didn't give a shit about how he looked like right. He wore blood more often than not anyways. At she buried her face in his neck, he could feel her smaller body trembling, something that he'd never felt before. The only time she trembled was when she was beneath him and he was fucking her senseless. That wasn't the case right now. Something had happened. Something that had fucked his sister up, both physically and emotionally. Two things that were unforgivable in his book.
He would tuck his massive skull around her shoulders, pulling her close to him, showing her the most tender side of him, a side that she very rarely, if at all, ever got to see. He would do his best to quell her trembling with his massive frame, pressing himself as close to her as possible without bringing any further pain to her injury. Why the fuck hadn't anyone come to treat her yet?! Heads were going to roll. I'm going to kill someone. Whether you tell me or not. He would murmur quietly into her shoulders, his special way of telling her that he loved her. He had been gone for long, but he was here and he was ready to murder whoever got in his path. Someone would pay for this.