forbidden fruit : private

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    There was always a calm before the storm. Mary was no exception. The massively framed bloodclanner stepped forward upon large white paws, elongated claws peaking from her feathery white fur subtlety. Riverclan. Last time she was here, she’d kidnapped a scrawny tom and forced him to show her the ways of Riverclan and their swimming. Now the behemoth of a molly was searching for a different tom, their medicine cat to be exact. Doestar’s precious son, the golden boy. Word of his “player” ways fell upon deaf ears and although she admitted within her mind that Chasingcomets was quite handsome she’d never speak on it.


    She wasn’t here to admire his appearance however, she was here to finish what they had started in the raid on her home. If she was being honest with herself, it wasn’t truly about Bloodclan’s honor, no. It was of her own honor, she refused to allow a stalemate between the skilled warriors. Someone had to come out on top and she’d be damned if she didn’t prove it’d be her. Sheogorath’s spawn was not one to beg for mercy or lay in defeat upon the feet of an enemy. The pure white molly was here to challenge Chasingcomets to a duel and would not leave until she did so. Mismatched eyes bounced through the territory impatiently, “Chasingcomets.” Venomously sweet vocals would boom, demanding attention and shattering the atmosphere smoothly. The ivory beauty now awaited to see his familiar frame, gleaming with bloodthirsty excitement, muscles rippling noticeably along her curvaceous figure.


    / CHASINGCOMETS !

    let’s get this drama rollin ;^)

    Tender, condescending intentions broke the fine layer of dusted dew that covered the moon-dappled moor; snarky enthusiasm held with high esteem in the brutish titian gaze of the burly male. It was well past the eve of September, furthermore past the night his tail end had slipped under the gates of his home to begin romancing forth once again. No, it wasn't of sex and lust, but passion certainly did highlight itself upon his cheekbones as he pressed a soft tune to his lips. He'd learned that life was merely an act of uplifting moments and their tragic downfalls, though it was tragic, both would never dare stray far from the safety-net that was their uttermost trust for one another. It was a bittersweet pause to think about, and if anything it was ironic to wonder how love and hate stayed more loyal than love and like, hate and dislike. But he was no educator, he knew very little about how to maintain his own crumbling love-life, and yet he found his tongue fiddling around in his mouth like a fish out of water as he set his gaze on the pulchritudinous form of his Queen. No matter where he'd gone, no matter for how long, she'd still be his Queen, and although she stood by her lonesome, cursing his name into the atmosphere, she was still alluring in all her might. She'd branded herself as his as soon as she'd gone looking for him. Pity, really. "Keep your voice down, love, you'll wake m-my patients."


    His body pushed forward, his lengthy stature somehow sprouting from the maze of brush that planted around her. She'd managed to stumble into his home, hadn't she? She knew damn well his warriors were still in battle, her friends and family scattered upon her home front in bloody circles. That wasn't very Queenly, was it? To leave those in their time of need to come finish an already-won fight? He let a thick, bourbon chuckle roll from his accented tongue, a lute-like smile strumming itself to his black lips as he waltzed out into the clearing as though he'd owned the place. "You really shouldn't be here, y-you know that, but I suppose that doesn't mean y-you care, huh?" He approached her, dashing body pilled with thick, fit muscle as it always had been, but this time he looked older and more toned, as though a fresh stubble glazed his face and the chest on him hulled deeper. He still, however, couldn't manage to get that dang scent off his skin: the honey, evergreen trees, lavender smoke. It was sort of annoying now that he thought about it. Though this wasn't about him, this was about Mary, the woman he once though was uncrushable... But she'd come crawling back to him. For what? Had she really wanted to fight him that badly? "You Bloodclanners are hardheaded."


    [ hee hee. sorry this is sloppy. c; ]


    And he approached. In all his glorious yet brooding wake, he arrived. Mary tensed briefly like a well-oiled machine her muscles tightened with anticipating amusement. A single icy blue and muddled hazel eyes connected with his own matching dark forest green eyes; rampant with a fiery passion reflected in her own pools of molten hellfire. His scent was unlike she had ever tasted lingering within her delicate senses, bewitching her for a moment in all its soft promises. A promise of all things heavenly, of love and of happiness. Alas, still too far from her reach it seemed. How cruelly he taunted the broken mistress.


    "Keep your voice down, love, you'll wake m-my patients."


    The battle-worn molly snarled brazenly, what did she care of these so called patients? This only fueled the volcanic eruption of emotions boiling within her inner chambers, inching forward ever so slightly seeming to almost float along the terrain despite her herculean build. Pristine ivory paws grazed the grass blades beneath her as she eliminated the distance between the two, sweet breath practically ruffling his feathery coat of chocolate and tawny hues mottled together. There was no denying his physical structure was practically sculpted by the gods themselves and yet Mary stood upon svelte limbs daringly, preparing to waltz with the devil himself.


    The militant was well aware of her clan’s current situation but the femme knew within her frigid heart that Bloodclan could withstand anything thrown by weak forest clanners. Darkclan and Windclan had arrived shortly after their cries of war. Caledon had instructed Mary herself to fetch Windclan the moment Riverclan retaliated for their vicious attack, why he had chosen their largest and war-skilled member to do such a mere task was not up to her to figure out. His gravely voice subdued her from her thoughts, focusing once again on the cocky brute in front of her. The combat starved beauty would pause for a moment, running her soft rosy tongue along thin ebony-lined lips before unsheathing dangerously sharp claws. “You talk too much, my dear. Let me put on a show for you, tiger.” Her voice oozing seductively and remained sweet as honey yet dripped with venomous intentions, thick obsidian eyelashes fluttering coquettishly along with every word. And with that, the bloodclanner bolted into action, aiming to barrel her entire weight against the male to catch him off guard and allow time for her true attack, a massively large paw seeking to connect with his maw hopefully raking against his flesh powerfully.


    / Mobile + sorry for any spelling mistakes uwu

    Okay so I was thinking, since the kits are going to be born on Halloween(which is in a few days) that they hurry up and do the sin? Like maybe Chase can pin her down and it gets s p i c y