BURN
BRIGHT
BRIGHT
Ninazu snorts, upper lip curling. “You may be right, Argus.”
The lioness’s paw drops off her satchel. She drags her claws over the dirt, scratching overlapping circles subconsciously. Those gold eyes of hers drift from Argus to Caesar, narrowing. It is not satisfying enough to gift a little burn. Her tongue slides across her fangs.
As usual, once she feeds the need, it grows. Her lip twitches higher, until she grimaces and flicks her wrist dismissively. “It’s no fun if you want it. If you get off on pain, I’d rather watch your wounds fester, your sense of touch rotting away with the flesh. Exquisitely slow, too.”
Her scowl becomes a smirk. “Is that the ultimate way to deny a masochist? Rob them of their ability to feel anything. There’s nothing so pathetic as a creature begging for any touch at all. But a fucked up shit like you might enjoy humiliation.” Tail lashing behind her, the need crawls up her throat and sits in her mouth, saliva dripping down her fangs at the daydream.
Sighing, Ninazu rubs the back of a paw down her muzzle. If only the violence produced anything useful, she’d be the most productive animal in the group. “Thanks for the suggestion,” she adds, glancing back at the dragon. Ninazu thinks of the serval, her birth body, and thinks of all the nooks she could hide in with that small form.
The lioness’s paw drops off her satchel. She drags her claws over the dirt, scratching overlapping circles subconsciously. Those gold eyes of hers drift from Argus to Caesar, narrowing. It is not satisfying enough to gift a little burn. Her tongue slides across her fangs.
As usual, once she feeds the need, it grows. Her lip twitches higher, until she grimaces and flicks her wrist dismissively. “It’s no fun if you want it. If you get off on pain, I’d rather watch your wounds fester, your sense of touch rotting away with the flesh. Exquisitely slow, too.”
Her scowl becomes a smirk. “Is that the ultimate way to deny a masochist? Rob them of their ability to feel anything. There’s nothing so pathetic as a creature begging for any touch at all. But a fucked up shit like you might enjoy humiliation.” Tail lashing behind her, the need crawls up her throat and sits in her mouth, saliva dripping down her fangs at the daydream.
Sighing, Ninazu rubs the back of a paw down her muzzle. If only the violence produced anything useful, she’d be the most productive animal in the group. “Thanks for the suggestion,” she adds, glancing back at the dragon. Ninazu thinks of the serval, her birth body, and thinks of all the nooks she could hide in with that small form.
© MADI