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She waited. She always waited. It seemed to her that she spent all her life waiting for one thing or another. Some things were harder to wait for than others, but waiting seemed to have become her lot in life, so she resigned herself to it.

She waited in the chambers of a prince, a human whose social status and position in society could not have been any more distantly removed from hers, yet there she was, waiting. Waiting on a fine couch in front of a sputtering fire that illuminated rich wall hangings, finely carved tables and chairs, thick rugs, a well-stocked sideboard, shelves upon shelves of books and scrolls, and a bed large enough for four people covered in a mountain of pillows and swathed in perfectly fitted royal blue sheets.

For one such as her, the long-enslaved, half-animal Faunae to be occupying such lavish quarters was unimaginable. Faunae slaves weren't allowed anywhere near the royal chambers even to clean under most circumstances. To be caught anywhere near them merited summary execution. The risk of assassination or espionage was deemed too great. The only exceptions were slaves such as her. 'Special attendants' to the Princes.

In short, she was a sex slave. Her body was the property of the young prince Thomas Greybane, to do with as he pleased. She had been given to him when he was twelve years old, just as his brother had been given a similar 'companion'. The Faunae, selected for their beauty at an early age, were taken from their parents in the slave pens and given over to instructors who taught them the arts of love. By the time the fourteen year old girls were introduced to the twelve year old princes they were already thoroughly and widely experienced, and it was their duty to instruct their owners in the ways of the bedroom and to provide relief for them until they were married to human women, to tide them over until their wedding nights.

She was less even than a prostitute, for though she had been with uncountable partners to prepare her for Prince Thomas she had never been paid, and never would. She would never have a single coin to her name. She knew all this, and she accepted it. In the early days, when she was thrown in bed with another unlucky Faunea and forced to rut them under the gleaming eyes of a 'trainer' she could only keep herself sane by escaping into fantasy, but that had failed her within months, and since then she had learned to accept what happened to her body and wait it out.

Now, years later, when her Prince was grown and leading armies against roving warbands of ship bourn raiders she found herself waiting even more often than usual. Before Thomas was made an officer in the army and set on periodic training excursions she was rarely without his presence for more than a few days. Now she could go for a month without seeing him from time to time.

This night was special though. Thomas returned victorious from his latest campaign in great fanfare. The largest incursion in living memory routed under his masterful leadership, and he himself had slain a great captain of the seafaring barbarians, or so the rumor went. She knew nothing of the actual events, only what she picked up from the gossipy maids that scrubbed her and dressed her in alluring garb for the triumphantly returning prince, that she might be ready to attend to his needs all the better.

The sound of the feast in the lower halls was tremendous, carrying through the walls of the castle and coming even into the chambers where she waited. She could not pick out any specific voices, not even her animal-keen ears could do that, but she could pick out snatches of music and loud laughter. Part of her wished she could be down there with the humans, eating rich food and enjoying the spectacle of the performers that were no doubt entertaining the revelers, but she knew that would never happen. Better to be where it's quiet, she told herself, better to be out of the way so that no human could be tempted to try and take her despite her status.

So she waited, sitting in her Prince's antechamber on a couch. Her slim body was honed by daily exercise and cleaned thoroughly by daily bathing but untouched by perfumes as per Thomas' preference. A slip of the thinnest cloth covered her torso, the gauzy cotton allowing any who looked upon her to peer straight through it to see a great deal of peach-furred skin underneath. Her wavy, honey brown hair was pulled back and held in a loose tail by a blue ribbon, with only a few locks left unbound to frame her round face. Her light amber eyes were unadorned by makeup, again as per Thomas' preferences, and her freckles untouched. Her catlike legs were bare but for the short coating of rich brown fur, her paws flexing every now and then, betraying her restlessness.

Eventually, her pointed ears pricked up at the sound of louder voices coming down the hallway outside the room. A clear, sardonic laugh echoed through the room. Prince Thomas was coming. She stood expectantly and waited, straining her ears to try and identify his companions. Almost immediately she picked out the slurred voice of Thomas' older brother Prince Bernard. That explained the higher-pitched female laughter that accompanied the still-indistinct voices. Bernard was very fond of pleasant company, and had a small cadre of Faunae 'attendants' that occupied him wherever he could get away with it. They wouldn't have been at the feast, but he had clearly picked at least one of them up along the way.

Taking a deep breath, she readied herself for the arrival of the Princes. Most of her kind would never dare so much as look at those of royal blood, and though she often did much more than look, there was always a risk, and she had to be careful. As the voices drew ever closer she felt herself don the mask of the demure courtesan with the ease of long practice. It was a role she played without conscious thought. Adopting the slightly stooped pose, the submissive yet eager expression, the subtly provocative sway of her mahogany tail, an act she had long perfected.

Finally the door opened and revealed the raucous party. Prince Thomas came in first, dressed in finery befitting his royal status but still proclaiming his military bearing. He wore the dress uniform of the officers of the army: crisp white trousers and a blue shirt, and over that a red tabard bearing the royal emblem of the striking eagle worked in silver thread. The tabard was also richly embroidered about the edges with the geometric sigils denoting the awards he had won for courage and prowess in battle. He was no rear-echelon commander. He had won the respect of his troops by wading into the thick of combat with a double-bladed hatchet he had claimed from the corpse of the first sea raider captain he had slain.

The royal colors he wore offset his weathered skin and his mirthful green eyes. His nose was slightly crooked, a swollen point halfway up and the bend to the left showing where it had been broken and healed improperly. Other small scars, a thin tracery of slivery lines, adorned his cheeks, forehead, and his hands.

The only concession he made to his royal blood was the thin steel circlet upon his head, a simple circle of wrought metal unadorned by jewels or filigree sitting amidst his silver threaded mud brown hair. He could have been any high-ranking officer in the castle if not for the circlet, and he acted much the same, being possessed of a humble nature and blessed with an easy laugh he was loved by his men and the citizenry alike.

Aside him came Bernard, the heir apparent. Unlike his shorter younger brother, he took after the deceased queen, being tall and thin with sharp cheekbones and a perfectly straight nose. His bloodshot eyes were almost as dark as his coal black hair, and his strong jaw further contrasted with Thomas' finer facial structure. He wore silvery hose and a white tunic embroidered in gold set with numerous jewels. He too wore a circlet, but it was made of gold and studded with sapphires, their finely polished gleam sending sparkles of color throughout the room. In one hand he held a near-empty bottle of wine and in the other he held one of his Faunae attendants. She wore nothing but carefully tied ribbons and was gazing up at him admiringly as his hand rested on her hip, occasionally slipping underneath the ribbon that covered her most secret area.

The elder prince lingered only long enough to welcome his brother back one last time and make a suggestion about a servant girl whose morals were loose enough to be coaxed into bed with a prince and his attendant if plied with enough wine. Thomas laughed and said that he would think about it as he watched Bernard leave and closed the door behind him, his loud and slurred conversation with his attendant fading slowly as he made his way to his own chambers.

Only then did he dare drop the act.

She could see it in him the instant the door was completely closed and the sound of his brother's passage completely faded. His shoulders slumped and his head bowed forwards, resting against the thick wood for a long time as he stood motionless. Then, after maybe a minute of silence he reached up and removed the circlet, setting it down on the table by the door. Then he looked at her and she could see the pain in his eyes.

Thomas the truehearted, the citizens called him. Thomas the brave, Thomas the wise. He was none of those now. Now, away from the eyes of those he needed to inspire, protect, or guard against, he finally let his own act drop and became what he truly was. Broken. Underneath the pithy banter and calm confidence that he displayed to the realm as a whole was a boy made a soldier and aged before his time. The blood on his hands, friend and foe alike, burned at his mind like molten iron, and he carried the weight of his past mistakes like a millwheel about his neck. The greying hair at his temples that the people called a mark of early-arriving wisdom was anything but. It was just further proof of the burdensome memories he carried.

She gazed into his eyes and saw the turmoil that frothed behind them, the self-doubt and recrimination that plagued his waking mind like the nightmares that stole his sleep. It was supremely ironic that a slave knew more of the Prince's mind than did his father, brother, or any of his friends among the army or aristocracy, but it was so. She had seen him wake up in the middle of the night and begin pouring over books of law and history and medicine, anything to stave off whatever nightmare he had seen. She had watched him practice sword drills in the anteroom late into the night, going for hours and hours until he trembled with exhaustion, just so he could win a few hours of dreamless sleep.

She saw the losses of the latest campaign added to the past ones, and she saw the interrogative tilt of his head, a gesture so minute he probably wasn't even aware that he made it. She saw all this and knew that the time to wait was over.

She walked across the room, her nearly nude body lit from aside by the flickering fire, a slave approaching her master, and gathered him into her arms, a lover comforting her mate. His arms encircled her and held her tight, a slight trembling in his hands foreshadowing what was to come. Her paws came up and gently pushed the back of his head down, tucking his face into her shoulder. The trembling spread from his hands to his arms, and through the rest of his body.

She asked him how many died in the battles against the raiders. He struggled out that he was unsure, as many of the injured took sick and were unlikely to recover. She squeezed him tighter and told him that he did the best he could, that no one, not even almighty god could ask for more than that. She felt tears prick at her eyes even as his body heaved and he sobbed into her shoulder, not the loud wailing cries of a child but the tight, airy spasms of someone who tries to hold back the torrent and only makes it more painful as a result.

She knew nothing can assuage this pain, but she tried anyway. She rocked them both back and forth, constantly murmuring what comforts she could. She assured him that nothing was perfect and that he saved many lives with his actions. She pointed out that the raiders would have carried off men, women, and children to use as slaves if he had not put an end to them. She reasoned that if he had not been in command then the duty would have fallen to Bernard, whose complete lack of strategic acumen would have spelled disaster. She told him this knowing that guilt and grief followed no logic but their own, and that her words rang hollow.

Why would a slave like her do so much for the one who owned her? Why would she comfort the man who had indirectly caused her to be ripped from her parents and made a whore? She did it because she loved him. To him she was a person. It didn't matter that she was a Faunae, a woman, or a slave. He was one of the few in the castle that treated the slaves well, which earned him their respect and loyalty, but beyond that he offered her something even more valuable than all of that: he gave her his trust. He opened himself to her in ways he never opened to anyone. She suspected that he had, in the beginning, found it comforting to be able to talk to someone completely freely, without having to censor himself for his audience. From there against all the odds their rapport had grown until they had at some point fallen in love.

That love was what sustained her through the constant waiting and what tore at her heart as he wept bitterly in her arms. As his shoulders heaved and his tears soaked into her slip she rested her cheek against his hair and assured him of her continued love even as her own tears began to fall.

She held him and rocked him until the sobs slowed and eventually stopped, whispering a constant stream of support and encouragement to sustain him as he weathered the storm of emotion he buried in the field. She let him decide when he was ready to face her again, and when he did he still kept her in his arms, the desperate need to stay close easy to see in his bloodshot eyes.

He thanked her tiredly and apologized, just like he always did, and she shushed him and stroked his cheeks just like she always did. He stood still and let her pet him, soaking in the welcome reassurance of her touch. That was only the first wave, they both knew. More would come throughout the night, ensuring that he wouldn't be able to sleep until the wee hours of the morning, or he wouldn't unless he had help, which he was fortunate enough to have plenty of.

She led him through the antechamber until they got to the pitcher of water kept there at all times, and she handed him a cup to soothe his throat. He took it gratefully and thanked her, weariness and dread evident in his voice. Then he took another cup, and another. By the time he was done the pitcher was mostly drained, but he looked marginally better. It was then that she made her proposal.

When he set the cup down she embraced him again and offered her body to him for comfort. She truthfully told him that she had missed him terribly during their separation and that she wanted to know his love again. He was reluctant at first. He was always afraid of bedding her when he just got back from his excursions, as though he would accidentally lose control and hurt her in the heat of the moment, even though he had never come close.

Gently she coaxed him, assuring him that she knew she was safe in his arms and that it had been too long since their last tryst. It wasn't a lie either, she did want him, badly, and she knew that he was even more desperate than her, all she had to do was convince him to let go of the fear and listen to his body.

He continued to resist, but she could hear the hesitation in his voice and pressed her advantage. She told him that if his body's urges were satisfied and the last of his energy burned away he would sleep soundly, untroubled by nightmares. He dithered a moment, caught between the spark of passion she awoke and the fears that constricted him. In the end it was the simplest of gestures that broke through to him. A gentle kiss to interrupt his excuse, and a soft nuzzle. Quietly he acquiesced, a new fear taking shape in his voice. She knew this fear though, it was the same fear that presaged all of their dalliances, and she knew how to allay it.

Starting slowly, she kissed his cheeks, ignoring the salty residue of tears. When he was in this state he could not jump right into the act, he had to tear his mind away from the battlefield or the royal court or wherever it was drifting and bring it back to the present. She helped him by caressing his flanks and shoulders just how he liked, and since he wasn't the type to stand and do nothing while she did so he reciprocated the gesture. While she petted him she continued to kiss his cheeks and jaw, whispering occasionally.

As she did all this she was pleased to find him slowly warming up and beginning to take a more and more active role. Before long he would reach the point where his blood boiled over and he would be just as desperate to mate her as he had been to avoid it earlier. She loved it when he was like that. Even in his most burning passions he never hurt her, but the sheer unadulterated need in his eyes as they writhed together was something that touched her profoundly.

His lips captured hers and she hummed happily as he kissed her vigorously. His hands slipped underneath her slip and she moaned into the kiss, enjoying the feeling of his calloused but gentle hands on her bare skin. Those hands knew her body's secrets, and when he chose he could drive her to the brink of madness with gentle touches and strategically placed caresses. She looked forward to the coming days of relative peace while he would be allowed to rest before returning to his place at court. Then they would have time for proper interludes, in which he would play her body like a flautist played their flute. That would have to wait though, now was not the time for drawn out lovemaking, here and now there was only room for need and relief.

She allowed herself to be slowly spun and then pinned against the wall as Thomas became more desperate. His hand cushioned the back of her head from the unforgiving stone and at the same time his kisses grew almost painfully intense. His body pressed against hers and she shivered at the dual contact of his warm weight and the cold wall behind her. His arms cushioned her and enveloped her. Her breasts pressed against his chest and she reveled in the feeling of being with her mate again. In the coming days, she knew, when his fear and grief faded, they would be able to spend time in each other's arms, just touching for the sake of touching, but right now there was an almost frenzied need in his touch, a barely restrained storm that was all the more fierce for being held in check. She wanted all of it, her own storm was just as calamitous and her own need just as ravenous as his.

Things moved quickly then. Her shift came off and the ribbon was taken from her hair. Her nude body was chilled by the cool air of the room and her nipples perked up. He trailed his hands down to her buttocks and asked permission, as he always did, to continue. She gave her assent in a breathy whisper, smiling as she thought of their first mating. He had been so frightened and apologetic that he could not even become hard at first, and it had only been after a great deal of coaxing and tender kisses that he had relaxed enough to allow his body to take control. Over time he became less hesitant, but he never completely lost the timidity that had so amused her when they were younger and he kept checking if it was okay for him to touch her even as she begged him not to stop.

Any and all such thoughts were driven from her when his hands found the base of her tail. Silvery pleasure shot through her body and she gasped, reflexively arching her back and going up onto her pawpads. The motion pressed her further against him and she welcomed it while ruefully acknowledging that she had gone far far too long without his touch.

As his hands massaged her tail his mouth found one of her ears and she let out a breathy moan as he started nibbling on it. He loved doing that almost as much as she loved having it done to her. She felt she might be odd, but her ears were extremely sensitive. So much so that when she pleased herself she almost always used whichever paw wasn't between her legs to pinch and stroke one of her ears. He knew that, and used it to his advantage, homing in on them whenever he feasibly could when they made love.

He sucked on the pointed tip of her ear, traced its edges with his tongue, and even triggered her Faunae grooming instincts by 'combing' his teeth through the short fur. It was a maddening sensation that she relished with unabashed enthusiasm, begging him shamelessly for more and whimpering in disappointment when he stopped.

When he pulled away from her she saw that his dark mood was completely eclipsed by his lust and the part of her that stayed rational despite the clamoring need to rut that sang through her entire being was happy that she had successfully distracted him, even if only for a little while.

He was careful when he tugged her away from the wall, and even more careful when he stooped to pick her up into his arms. She squeaked in surprise, but she trusted in his strength and held onto him as he supported her legs and spine. He smiled (a victory in her book) at her surprise and told her that since he couldn't marry her, he had to settle for this instead. She smiled back and told him that she is happy they did not have to get married. She liked that they were able to have sex without waiting for legal approval first.

They continue to talk like that, their comments increasingly lewd, as he carefully carried her to his bower. He tells her that her fit, furred figure is enticing and that he could not wait to bury himself inside of her. In return, she tells him that he smells like a powerful alpha male, and that she wants to be claimed and seeded. Such talk is their ritual, comforting and familiar.

When he set her on the bed he hungrily kissed her again, and she welcomed it just as she welcomed the hand that slipped between her legs to explore her moist entrance and remove the last of her clothing with one brief tug. Then he stood back to remove his own clothing, but not before taking a second to admire her nude form.

As she watched him impatiently disrobe, struggling a little with the intricacies of his uniform, she was once again struck by the contrast between him as he was now, and the nervous youth he was when he first met him. So shy that he was barely able to strip down in front of her at first, and mortified when she first saw his penis. Now, on the other hand, he could not shed his clothing fast enough, and soon she got her first look at his erect member. It was stiff and bobbing with each movement, twitching slightly in time with his heartbeat. She knew there was one last obstacle to overcome before they mated in truth, although it was hardly an onerous one.

When he was finally completely nude she slid off the bed and knelt in front of him, using his clothing to cushion her knees. He understood her intention immediately and told her she did not have to. She smiled at him and reminded him that the Faunae shamans taught that swallowing seed increased fertility and was vital for the growth of a child. He grinned and told her that he would not care to contradict her beliefs and would be only too happy to supply her with what she wanted.

With a grin of her own she gripped his rocklike shaft in one paw and started licking. He tasted salty, and his musky smell made a welcome haze cloud her mind and she purred happily. Faunae males and females produced smells unnoticeable to humans during certain times of the year, and a male or female in heat or rut could completely overwhelm the mind of another Faunae of the opposite sex, driving them into a frenzy that completely defied reason. Such sex was often rough, hurried, and much sought after. While Thomas did not produce such scents, he did come close in her mind, and she genuinely enjoyed his scent and taste.

Knowing he would not last long she did not bother to draw things out. After his shaft was lubricated with her saliva she engulfed him in her mouth and pointed his tip at her tongue. Breathing through her nose she bobbed her head up and down, putting all her training and experience to use. She didn't bring him off as fast as she could, but it was close. She gave him just enough time to savor what was coming before she pushed him over the edge.

His breathless warning came too late, and she tasted his salty seed before the words were halfway out of his mouth. He was horribly pent up, and the emission was large, but she swallowed most of it without difficulty, and the rest she carefully slathered down his shaft with a downward stroke of her head. Then she pulled her head back and performed the almost-necessary bit of theater where she opened her mouth to show him just what she'd gotten. Then, as he stood, weak at the knees and gasping, she swallowed and licked her lips clean. Then she leaned forward again and began painstakingly cleaning him off, being careful of his sensitive tip but sure to get every last patch of white seed she could find.

She giggled when she was done and kissed his belly, telling him that she liked the taste of the snack he had just provided her, which earned a breathless laugh from him and a comment about reciprocation, which she is only too glad to accept.

Most humans would not even think of pleasing a Faunae in that way, but he was so eager that he almost made it to the bed before she did. She was only too happy to sink into the mattress and spread her legs for him, and his head dipped down to her folds without hesitation. His lips pressed against her slit in a parody of a kiss and she moaned throatily as she savored the sensation of his tender ministrations. He had insisted on her teaching him how to do this, and despite her initial misgivings and worries about what the court would say if they found out their prince was 'lowering' himself so, but he had convinced her in the end and she had no reason at all to regret it.

He started gently as he always did, but with his absence and her having only her paws for company she was not at all in the mood for slow. She was already primed for pleasure, and she let him know. She beseeched him to go faster and harder, stroking his hair as his head bobbed between her legs. He did as she asked and started licking her folds confidently, seeking out the places she liked with the ease of years of practice. He hardened the tip of his tongue and parted her folds from bottom to top, traced her outer lips and gave feather-light kisses to the hooded nub at the top of her entrance. She sighed, groaned, and writhed in ecstasy, draping her legs over his shoulders to change the angle of his touches. One paw came up to her right ear and started stroking it while the other gripped the blankets hard.

When his mouth and jaw tired he used his fingers to stroke her and continued their conversation from earlier. He buried his nose in the thick, dense fur between her legs and breathed deeply. Then he told her that she smelled fertile and tasted delicious, and that he wanted nothing more than to breed her and sire his bloodline through her. It was impossible, but a fond wish for them both, and pretending enhanced the experience.

She begged him to do just that, only half-acting, and not for the first time she wished that either she was human or he Faunae, that they could be together properly and raise a family. She refused to let the thoughts steal her enjoyment though, and she gasped in delight when his mouth resumed its work.

He lapped and slurped at her wetly, her own fluids flowing freely. As she gazed down he caught her eyes as he lewdly penetrated her with his tongue. They maintained eye contact, making the already intimate act even more so. Then she felt the telltale quivering beginning to build in her girdle and her moans began rising in pitch. He took this for the signal it was and began paying more attention to her nub, suckling it and manipulating the flesh around it with his lips and tongue. The stimulation was quickly too much for her and with a squeak the rapture of climax washed over her in a rush. Her whole body quivered as pleasure cascaded throughout her body, centering between her legs.

He kept licking her the whole time, but slowed down when she fell from her peak. His licks slowed from their frantic pace and became slow and regular, easing her down into the afterglow and providing a pleasant source of continued light stimulation that, she knew, would build until she would be able to mate him in earnest, but for the moment she closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment, letting out a contented purr.

The next few minutes were restful, a short interlude before their finale. He licked her slowly, doing it to enjoy her taste for its own sake as much as to keep her blood hot. For her part, she enjoyed the smell. His musk had never really diminished, and he had more than enough time to return to full mast, and his scent combined with her own was pleasant and comforting for her. It was a reminder of many pleasant nights they'd spent in each other's arms after mating.

When his tongue got tired again he switched to his fingers and spoke to her quietly. He did not tell her anything new, but he did tell her what she wanted and needed to hear. He told her he loved her, he told her that her body drove him mad with need for her, he told her that he wanted nothing more than to go away with her and be with her until the end of time. She smiled and told him that she wanted the same, and that she wished she could know the joy of raising children with him. For a moment this made them both sad, but he would not let things turn melancholy. He kissed her, down below. A long, slow, and wet exploration of her nether lips that made her shudder and her belly begin to warm with longing.

She began toying with her ear again, knowing that this was his signal that he could not bear to wait much longer. She focused on the raw, animal lust that he inspired in her and envisioned them coupling, fanning the heat in her belly to greater heights. Each wet slurp from between her legs and each appreciative moan from him deepened her enjoyment, and she added her voice to the chorus. She purred and gasped as waves of pleasure crested over her and her body readied itself once again to be bred.

Suddenly his attentions stopped, and she groaned at the loss, but she felt his tongue trace a line from her waist to her bellybutton and the sound became shaky and breathy. He was finally going to mount her. His mouth made a trail upwards, passing over her belly and stopping briefly on her breasts before he made it all the way up and they were lying face to face. She kissed him without hesitation, the taste of her own juices no hindrance for her. Their tongues met and fought, and they tasted themselves on each other as they fell into position with practiced ease.

Her hand came down and grasped his hard shaft. She squeezed him once and made an appreciative sound. He groaned and begged her not to tease him. She acquiesces and lines him up with her slit, trembling in anticipation. His entrance was slow but sure, and they both sighed happily as it happened. They took a moment to savor the feeling of each other, of being filled and being engulfed respectively. She was wet and hot, heaven on his member, and he was completely turgid, pleasantly stretching her body.

Their movement started when she gently pushed her hips up, her way of telling him that she was ready. He complied readily, thrusting slowly in and out, hilting himself completely each time. It was his way of ensuring he did not finish too soon. Her hands cupped his face as he rutted her, and she petted him gently as she eagerly welcomed him into her body. His mouth found hers and he sucked on her lips, capturing her tongue for short bouts between heavy gulps of air. She wrapped her legs around his waist to change the angle of his approach and purred excitedly when that put more pressure exactly where she wanted it.

His thrusts slowly became more energetic and forceful, never enough to hurt, but definitely building in intensity. She encouraged him, begging to be mated like a beast in season. He was all too eager to comply, stepping up his pace and burying himself in her quickly. He stopped being as gentle, but did not risk hurting her either. She saw the desperation in his face and smiles because she was desperate too, and because she liked knowing that she was the one to drive him to such extremes.

Then he paused briefly to reposition his arms. She almost got the chance to ask him about it when he started gently pinching her ears between his fingers. Her reaction was as immediate as it was positive. Her whole body stiffened as pleasure flared. She made a throaty, wordless plea as her back arched on its own. He was taking blatant advantage of her ears and she could only approve.

Such was the pleasure she took in the act that she knew she was going to finish before him. It did not matter to her though, she was too entranced in the joy of mating and could entertain no thoughts of slowing or delaying her bliss. So instead she acted for him, she let her enjoyment show in her moans and on her face. His enjoyment was obvious in his increased pace and his lusty panting. Whenever he had the opportunity he began to assault her neck and jawline with kisses. He suckled on the sensitive flesh and traced nonsense patterns with his tongue. Each sensation piled on top of the last and driving her closer and closer to climax.

His stiff member began to leak precum, further lubricating her tunnel as he almost mindlessly plowed into her, moving as fast and as hard as he dared. She tried to match his pace, but between his hands on her ears and his mouth on her neck she could not find to coordination, so she settled for squeezing down on him as hard as she possibly could, clenching as rhythmically as she was able. This only further spurred her towards her peak and within minutes she knew it was time.

She managed a garbled warning just in time for the first waves of rapture to erupt. Then her words were drowned in something that was almost a scream. Her quivering body was wracked with spasms that made her tunnel clutch at him even harder than she had been, and halfway through her orgasm the sensation proved too much for him and he joined her. His seed spurted into her ready tunnel and his quiet groan of utmost relief joined her frantic call of release.

A moment of utter bliss later they collapsed to the bed, exhausted but content. It took him a minute to soften and slip out of her, and they took that time to catch their breath. Then, after one last breathless kiss, they bedded down for the night.

She moved enough for him to pull back the blankets and then joined him underneath, not bothering to clean themselves up. They would bathe in the morning, and they both liked knowing that they were covered in evidence of their mating. They each grabbed their favorite pillow and snuggled close in their sleeping position: Him on his back with her nestled against his side. Her hand finds his and they clasp. Finals words of love and contentment are traded, and he kissed the top of her head before laying his head down and deliberately allowed his exhaustion to carry him into a deep and dreamless sleep, the most restful he had in months.

It takes her longer to drift off, but she does not mind. She enjoys being close to him, and she fondly pretends that she was in heat, and that his seed took root in her womb. These thoughts carry over into her dreams, where they led a simple life far from the castle, raising a large litter of children with nothing more to worry about than the turning of the seasons and the slow passage of time.