Roll for Initiative

by Some Leech

Rating: mature
Tags: Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Fetish, Comedy, Romance, Porn, Sex, Profanity
Length: 5214

Fenris and Kara have a VERY rousing game of Ogres and Oubliettes

The relationship between Fenris and Kara can be described as a mixed. The pair get along decently enough to have each other's backs, they've saved one another on several occasions, and they'd even started dating - that said, there's still quite a bit of friction between them. Attempting to unwind one afternoon, after a relatively tame adventure, the duo find themselves having a disagreement...

Kinks Include: Female on Male, Male on Female, Femdom, Maledom, Transformations, Vaginal, a Bit of Bondage, Teasing, and a bit of Stress Relief

Artwork by Colorsoundz (Twitter @Colorsoundz)
Fenris belongs to Ebony
Kara belongs to WeLost

If you want to help support me, I have a Tip-Jar/Patreon HERE

Published 2022-11-09 21:10:05 UTC
Last updated 2022-11-09 21:10:05 UTC

Critical Hit

“That’s such bull,” Kara huffed, looking away from the dice and rolling her eyes.

With his smug grin never wavering, Fenris cocked a brow and peered over at her. “Why’s that?”

“Because it would never happen -” she insisted, waving a forehoof at the smirking pegasus, “besides, who tries to charm their own teammate?! For buck’s sake, we’re in the middle of a dungeon!”

He peeked down at the map, figures, and the die arranged between them, then gave an apathetic shrug. “I mean, it’s not like we’re currently under attack. Consider it a congratulatory seduction for a job well done.”

Pinching the bridge of her snout, she shook her head and closed her eyes. “First of all, that was only a group of goblins we just slayed - secondly, we still haven’t found the treasure that’s supposed to be in this quest.”

“That doesn’t happen for…” he trailed off, inspecting and turning the pages of the game manual. “Ah - we don’t find anything of note until we reach the third level.”

Getting to her hooves, without saying a word, she stepped over the map and snatched up the book. “And stop cheating! It’s no fun if we know what’s going to happen.”

“If we had a proper dungeon master, we wouldn’t be in this predicament -” he retorted, slowly pushing himself up, “then again, even if that was the case, I still feel like a passionate victory celebration would be in order.”

Kara turned away, failing to keep herself from smiling. He was always like this, and she doubted he’d ever be any different. Regardless of whether they were on an actual adventure, questing through the bowels of the earth or exploring some long-lost ruins, or simply playing a game of Ogres and Oubliettes, he was just as likely to be inspecting her as he would examine his surroundings for signs of danger. His raging libido and haughty demeanor were as charming as they were infuriating, depending on the circumstances - fortunately for her, she was immune to his wiles - mostly.

“I think I found it,” he noted, causing her to peek over her shoulder at him.

Squinting at him, she spoke without thinking. “Found what?”

“A rather succulent booty to plunder,” he smoothly intoned, licking his chops as he eyed her toned flank.

Seeing a blush creep into her cheeks, while she wheeled around to scowl at him, he snickered. She was too precious - she really was. Even after everything they’d been through, including rather foolhardy exploits in and out of the bedroom, he still had a way of getting to her. Casually trotting up to her, picking up a dice as he went, he precariously placed the D20 on her nose. She almost instantly balked, just as he’d expected, and he watched the little icosahedron tumble to the floor.

“That’s a two for your charisma check,” he remarked, picking up and tossing the dice onto the mat. “Considering I have the bangle of coercion and I’m a level higher than you, all I need is a - yes, I believe that seventeen will do.”

“You are not seducing me,” she growled, petulantly stomping a hoof.

His lips curled upwards, exposing his pronounced canines, as he locked eyes with her. “Are we talking about the game or right now in real time? I’d handily manage either.”

“Pfffft -” she dismissively snorted, turning and trotting away from him, “yeah right.”

While she would never openly admit it, especially to him, she had succumbed to his charms on a small hooffull of occasions - ok, maybe more than a small hooffull of occasions. His athletic physique, indigo coat, and captivating eyes would have been enough to sweep many mares off her hooves, yet he was so much more than that. As arrogant as he was capable, he had the skills to back up his honeyed words and sinful promises.

“Conceding already?” he murmured. “But we’re only getting started.”

“I’m going to bed,” she shot back, slowing to glare back at him.

His smile broadened as he trotted along after her. “Which bed - my bed?”

Gritting her teeth, she turned and jammed a forehoof into his chest. “My bed…”

“My apologies,” he hummed, stepping back and dipping his head. “I’d assumed you’d want us to use my bed, since it’s a bit softer, but I suppose I can weather a night on that overly hard mattress of yours.”

She recoiled and ignored the thrilled shiver that ran up her spine. The absolute nerve of this stallion! To think that he’d continue harrying her for a bit of action wasn’t out of character for him - still, more often than not, he would have gotten the hint by now. Realizing that trying to reason with him would get him nowhere, with her patience gradually wearing thin, she coyly smiled at him.

His hubris was a double edged sword, both an asset and detriment to practically everything he did, and this was no different. If she could turn the tables on him, she may be able to knock him down a few pegs and get the last word in. Motioning to the dice, she expectantly held a forehoof toward him.

“Considering I failed the charisma check, I think I’m going to pounce on your rogue,” she asserted, relishing the surprised look in his eyes. “Oh don’t act so stunned! My proud barbarian has clearly gone mad with lust, so I hope your dainty little character is ready to reap what he’s sown.”

Shifting over and plucking two six-sided die from the floor, Fenris cleared his throat. “You know good and well that he’s not daint - Hey!”

Snatching the die from his hoof and dropping them, she looked down and grinned from ear to ear. “Oh dear - a twelve,” she mused, her heavily lidded eyes swinging up to his gobsmacked face. “I hope you little assassin’s luck can hold out - if not, he may be hobbling through the dungeon for the rest of the campaign.”

He faltered as he peered down at the die. Given Kara’s barbarian’s strength, level, and equipment, not to mention the still-active buffs she’d cast on herself, it would be impossible for him to beat her in a test of outright strength - that said, he was far from helpless. Biting back a smirk, he shifted to the side and scooped up the D20.

“I cast mind fracture,” he stated, rolling the dice before she could say anything.

“That’s not fair!” she barked. “You can’t cast a spell before you make a savings throw!”

Cocking his head to the side, he stared dead at her face. “I can’t?”

“No!” she tersely replied. “If you could interrupt play like that, how would -”

“So that time a month ago - you know, when I hit you with a glamor while we were staying at that in near Sire’s Hollow ~ that didn’t happen?” he countered, cutting her off and leaving her speechless.

It may have been a bit dirty to bring up real world happenings while playing again, but he wasn’t above punching below the belt. Reminiscing on the event in question, recalling just how eagerly she’d begged him to mount her, he snickered to himself. She may have had him beat in raw strength by a slim margin, but his guile was leagues beyond hers - at least he liked to think it was. Though he wouldn’t deny that she was a clever mare, more clever and cunning than most, he was more cunning than her.

The subtle ache in her loins, spurred by the memory of being ensorceled by the nefarious bastard, only steeled her resolve. It was true that she’d ended up saying and doing several very scandalous things at his behest, things which were infuriating and arousing in equal measure, yet she wasn’t going to let it happen a second time. Closing her eyes and channeling her willpower, she focused on the amulet hanging around her neck.

“Falling back on your trump card already?” he mockingly inquired, threatening to break her concentration. “That’s cute…”

Tapping into a mere fraction of her full, physical potential, she opened her eyes, charged him, and drove him against the wall. His startled grunt and shocked expression were just what she was hoping for, but they came with a catch. Having effectively pinned him, feeling the warmth of his fur against her chest, she unwittingly breathed in his masculine scent.

“Done talking?” she pressed, driving a shoulder into him.

It was a precipitous situation to have put herself in, but it was the only thing she could think of. While she had no intention of actually hurting him, she wanted - no, needed to show him who’s boss. She may have fooled around with him a few times, and she may have occasionally fantasized about him, although that didn’t mean he could push her around and compel her to act like some wanton floozy.

She cocked a forehoof back and slammed it beside his head, cracking the drywall mere inches from his face, and grimaced. “And this isn’t my trump card.”

“Shame,” he sighed, closing his eyes and hanging his head, “because this is mine…”

Quite literally in the blink of an eye, faster than she could react, she felt his body contort and shift. Rough, bark-like growths sprouted on the ends of his legs, replacing his hooves with crude claws, and his coat thickened considerably. As he lifted his head, with tufts of fur sprouting on his ears, he opened his eyes to reveal glowing, cat-like pupils.

His transformation only lasted a second, but it was one second too many. She reeled back, unable to break eye contact with him, while her legs buckled. She’d fully expected some sort of counter from him, yet he’d gone for one of the deadliest moves in his formidable arsenal. While he was a pegasus, a pony typically unable to wield magic, he’d sold a part of himself to become something more - a weretimberwolf.

“Now then ~ where were we?” he began, brushing himself off. “You were saying how badly you wished for me to join you in bed?”

Slowly trotting around her, filling the air with his preternatural scent, he watched her tail twitch and threaten to flag. It really was adorable for her to think she could overwhelm him with brute force. She was a physical powerhouse and quite skilled with a sword, but those mattered little - at the end of the day, she was a mare like any other.

As he steadily circled her, drawing his hoof from her shoulder to her flank, she stifled what sounded like a whimper. “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you ~ what was that?”

“I s…said,” she stammered, fighting through a blissful haze, “go buck yourself.”

Damn him - damn his stupid, sexy body, domineering attitude, incredible smell, amazing stallionhood…No - no, no, no, no, NO! She threw her head from side to side, snarling and struggling to control herself. As angry as she was with him for doing something so underhoofed, her carnal longings roared into an inferno.

“Such defiance,” he purred, running a hoof up her neck and to her chin. “Wouldn’t it be easier if you simply submitted?”

A part of him hoped she wouldn’t oblige him. There was something deliciously wicked about wrapping a mare around his hoof, bending them to his will, but only if it wasn’t too easy. Like many endeavors in life, those that required the most effort, testing his skill and expertise, were the most rewarding. He relished her struggle, watching her writhe while fighting tooth and hoof to stave off his sorcery, and he knew he was in for a show.

Unlike a great many mares he’d had the pleasure of breaking, Kara was an exquisitely tough nut to crack. Nearly as headstrong as she was physically powerful, the mighty earth pony had been quite the entertaining companion to travel with. While he wouldn’t say they’d become romantically engaged throughout the months they’d known one another, there was no refuting that they’d grown close - so close that he was a bit disappointed that she’d left herself open to such a simple attack.

Shuffling in place, he presented his side and hiked a hind leg. “Perhaps this would make a more compelling argument…”

Her eyes darted to his crotch, spying the length that swung beneath him. For his size, he was exceptionally well-hung. His stallionhood, covered in nearly black flesh, dangled and taunted her, almost begging her for her attention. Her foreleg inched forward, bringing her closer to his package, until she forced her disobedient body to obey her. By Celestia, if it was the last thing she did, she had to find a way to stop him.

As she barely managed to hold her ground, her thoughts raced. The circumstances weren’t in her favor, already sensing her strength fleeing from her, but she wasn’t about to concede - not by a long shot. Wrenching her eyes off his cock, she drew a shuddering breath, slowly exhaled, and slumped her shoulders.

“Fine,” she breathed, knitting her brow.

“Fine what?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as he studied her face.

Looking over at him for a fleeting moment, she averted her gaze and ground her thighs together. “I…I want it ~ ok?”

Backing away, positively beaming, he chuckled to himself. “Convince me…”

It took everything she had not to give herself away, letting him know she still had control of herself. “P…please, I need it…”

She had to play her hand carefully - very carefully, unless she wanted to tip her hoof. She stepped forward and lowered her head, gradually moving toward his loins, as she prepared herself. Desperate circumstances called for desperate measures - she just hoped she could pull off her hastily laid scheme.

As she crept under him, breathing in his downright godly musk, the war in her mind grew pitched. It would be insanely easy to give in, to worship his divine endowment and beg him to mount her, yet she was able to fend off her perverse yearnings - if only just. It wasn’t until she was fully beneath him, nearly pressing her chest to the floor while positioning a shoulder below his rib cage, did she spring the trap.

Flexing her legs and rising to her full height in a flash, calling upon the full might of her unnatural strength. His hooves left the floor, the air was driven from his lungs, and he sailed through the air for a fleeting second before crashing onto his back several feet away. If he thought he was going to woo her with simple parlor tricks and a touch of magic, she had a thing or two to show him.

Fenris shook his head and dazedly looked around, his eyes only eventually settling upon the proud mare smiling over at him. “You…you threw me.”

“Oh I’m sorry,” she jeered, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You didn’t pass that evasion check to avoid my throw.”

Slowly rolling onto his belly and getting his hooves under himself, he stood and brushed himself off. The blow had been less than pleasant, but there was no way in Tartarus he was going to show her any sign of weakness of his possibly bruised ribs. If she still had some fight left in her, that was fine with him - in fact, he’d been secretly craving a confrontation like this.

“So this is what we’re doing now?” he grumbled, his remark more of a statement than a question.

She lowered her head and squared off against him, while her amulet glowed. “Yeah…Yeah, it is.”

He should have stuck instantly, before she had the chance to fully ready herself ~ but where was the fun in that? While he’d normally subjugate anyone brave or foolish enough to be so impudent with him, Kara was a bit of a special case. The mare had earned some sliver of respect from him, she was easy on the eyes, and she was deliciously defiant - all told, it would be much more entertaining to pit himself against her when she was at her best.

She set her jaw and tensed from hoof to head, gradually growing in size. Though she was an earth pony, she’d acquired a rather particular artifact that allowed her to substantially increase her stature and muscle mass - heightening her already considerable strength by an order of magnitude. His eyes played over her expanding frame, taking note of her powerful hind legs and broad hips, as she steadily reached her full, imposing size.

He was well aware how arguably foolish he was being, realizing that her strength dwarfed his by a considerable margin, yet he wasn’t too concerned. While she may have had him beat in raw, physical power, he was slightly more nimble than she was. Regarding martial prowess, they were roughly on equal footing, although he had several tricks up his nonexistent sleeve.

Vines crept up his legs, while he put his own abilities to work. The weretimberwolf curse was a bane to many, with those afflicted going to great lengths to cure themselves, but not him. While it was true that the hex had taken no small amount of training, perseverance, and willpower to conquer, forcing his bestial urges into submission, the payoffs had far exceeded the costs. He drew a breath, filled his lungs, then slowly exhaled a gout of lilac-colored miasma.

“Much better,” he purred, his sclera going pitch-black as his metamorphosis was completed.

As long as he could fend her off for long enough, it would only be a matter of time until her resolve started to crumble. Being indoors was helpful in some ways, being a closed area that would quickly fill with the mind-altering aphrodisiacs he produced, although it came at a price. With little room to maneuver, as well as the roof over their heads, his agility would be hobbled to a degree.

Turning his nose up, he flicked a bang of mane from his face. “I don’t care how menacing you’re trying to be - if you want some of this,” he taunted, flexing his groin and slapping his stallionhood against his belly, “you’re going to have to come and get it.”

“Would you shut up?!” she raged, charging at him.

She shouldn’t have let the petty jab get to her, but his arrogance was insufferable. Crossing the gap between them in an instant, dipping her head and angling a shoulder at his midsection, she growled when he dared away and onto the couch. Her hooves skidded over the carpet, as she turned her head and bared her teeth. If she could get her hooves on him, it would be over in a flash - sadly, that was easier said than done.

“What’s the matter?” she laughed. “Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little mare.”

His smirk waned, yet he dismissed the insult. “Hardly.”

Turning to fully face him, she sneered. “Says the stallion who’s running away…”

She inched closer and tensed. The layout of the room wasn’t perfect, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use it to her advantage. He couldn’t fly, not properly in the chamber, and there were only two doorways he could escape out of, giving her a few avenues to make an attack. Shuffling to her side, effectively blocking one exit, she snorted and shook her head.

The circumstances were less than ideal. On one hoof, stalling and attempting to provoke him could cloud his judgment and give her an opening - on the other, delaying for too long would be her downfall. She could already feel a warmth blossoming in her abdomen, feeling her marehood spontaneously wink and drool because of his insidious influence, so she had to act fast.

“Bold words, coming from a mare who’s - ah yes,” he chuckled, lifting his head and sniffing the air. “Already leaking…”

“Hah ~ like that makes a difference,” she scoffed. “Even if you did manage to bend me over, we both know you wouldn’t last longer than a minute.”

He lowered and shook his head, closing his eyes as he softly tsked. “There you go projecting again. Don’t act like I didn’t have you squealing like a filly on prom night the other -”

Flitting over, having heard her pounce, he beamed. If she had a shortcoming, it was how painfully predictable she was. Of course she’d attack him as soon as she thought he wasn’t paying attention! It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so sad - or so he’d thought. As she landed where he’d stood mere moments prior, he was knocked off his hooves and smashed against the back of the sofa. The blow sent him reeling, rattling his brain and leaving him dazed, and it gave her just what she needed - thankfully, he’d prepared for such a development.

As soon as he landed on the cushions, she wrenched him onto his back and pinned him. “Yield…”

“You first,” he snarled.

Root-like growths sprang from his upper limbs, snaring her forelegs, while his scarf, the very locus of his power, shot forward and wrapped around her neck. His more passive talents were normally enough to break somepony, but the use of his ensorceled garment was a game changer. Though she may not have realized it, he’d already won.

Eldritch and corruptive forces seeped into her, bending her will and invading her mind. No matter how stalwart somepony was, there wasn’t a creature on the face of the planet who could endure such torment, and Kara was no exception. He’d have his way with her and teach her a valuable lesson in humility, but not before he had her beg to taste his passion.

She flung her head from side to side, feeling the perfidious claws of his will gnawing at her, but all hope wasn’t lost - not yet. Pressing her forehooves to his forelegs, she locked her fetlocks under his knees and stepped forward. He may have trapped her, ensnaring her with the infernal plants that he’d summoned, although she had him cornered.

“Going to fuck yourself on me already?” he muttered, peering down his chest to watch his stallionhood spring between her thighs.

Kissing her marehood to the tip of his length, she stared down at him. “Actually, yeah…”

Without waiting for him to reply, she threw her hips downward and impaled herself. As loathe as she was to admit it, she knew they’d end up fucking. It wasn’t the first time a petty argument had resulted in them doing the deed, and she’d bet every bit she owned that it wouldn’t be the last, but this time was different - this time she was going to end things on her terms. Locking him in an amazoness press, robbing him of his precious pride, she started fucking herself on him.

“What’s - Mmmph - wrong?” she grunted, clamping her vice-like snatch on him. “Somepony not used to being the bottom bitch?”

Her unorthodox approach caught him completely off guard, giving him a moment for pause. Between the sinful sensation of her velvety depths, the unfettered view of her snatch milking him, it took him a second to fully comprehend how dire the circumstances were. Not only had she managed to overpower him, but the position she was rutting him in was less than acceptable.

He couldn’t move a muscle, left totally at her mercy, and she seemed hellbent on using him like a living, breathing sex-toy. While a part of him could appreciate her approach, having done similar things with mares in the past, he wouldn’t let the situation stand. Willing his scarf to constrict around her neck, he attempted to ignore the heavenly grip she had on his cock.

“W…wouldn’t you rather feel - Gah!” he yelped, stunned when she leaned in and bit his collar.

“Quiet,” she seethed, “you’re mine tonight.”

Be damned if she was going to be reduced to some whimpering, begging harlot - sure it felt great when he mounted her and hammer away at her upturned ass, but that wasn’t going to happen tonight. If he wanted to get laid, going so far as to try to sorcerously coerce her, she was going to make sure he was limping away with a wounded pride and bruised pelvis afterward.

The sofa creaked under him, the air grew thick with the scent of sex and musk, and the rhythmic drumbeat of their colliding bodies married perfectly with the sound of their panting breaths, while their licentious struggle continued. He may not have been able to move - then again, neither could she. Even if she’d wanted to put an end to the impassioned exchange, which she didn’t, the vines about her limbs wouldn’t have let her get away from him.

The irony was delicious. He’d wanted to get his dick wet, but she doubted he’d ever had a mare be so assertive with him - a fact that only elevated her bliss. Though his accursed scarf did make it a bit harder to breathe, that wasn’t nearly enough to stop her. Rocking her hips forward and back, while pistoning her hindquarters on him, she ground his medial ring against her g-spot.

He may have looked down on mares, considering them to be playthings, but they had something he didn’t - a much shorter refractory period. If she came before him, which was an all too real possibility, there was nothing stopping her from screwing his brains out until she decided to stop. Clenching her sopping wet pussy around him on her upstrokes, while relaxing on her descents, she worked his dick with all the subtlety of a Yakyakistani whore.

“I…I underestimated you,” he stammered.

She slowed and quirked a brow. “What?”

Licking his lips and looking away from her, he did his best to look timid. “I said I underestimated you,” he repeated, the tendrils around her forelegs recoiling.

He only had one shot to make his plan work, and he prayed it wasn’t going to backfire. Slackening his scarf, letting the garment fall loose, he gazed up at her face and sheepishly smiled. All he needed was a small slip up, an opportunity to put the defiant little strumpet in her place. One way or another, even if it took months and repeated attempts, he would conquer her.

“Damn right you did,” she spat.

The scarf unwound from her, sliding downward and onto his chest, while she shifted her hooves up to his shoulder. “Yes,” he sighed, “I underestimated how foolish you are…”

“You conceited - Ack!” she croaked, thrust off balance.

His scarf wasn’t nearly as strong as a pony, especially one as bit as Kara, yet it and his vines were just enough to throw her off himself. Crashing onto her back at the far end of the couch, she landed with a dull thud. He launched himself forward, landing between her hind legs, and sank his length into her.

“B…bastard,” she rasped in spite of the pleasure he afforded.

He set his jaw and set to railing her, overjoyed that his gambit had paid off. She was already starting to yield, fighting back far less than she could have, but he couldn’t afford to let up. Until she was a quivering, mewling, compliant mess, he was going to fuck her with everything he had. Holding her forelegs down, coiling his scarf around her throat, and steadying himself, he plowed her like a field in spring.

With the tip of his length beating against her womb, he braced his hind legs. “Just lay back and - Fuck!”

She may have been down, but she was far from out. Kicking her hind legs out, she locked her fetlocks around his hips, shook her forelegs free, and reached up to grab his neck. Even though he’d managed to get on top of her, she was going to show him why she wasn’t to be trifled with. Missionary wasn’t the best position to be in control, although it came with a few advantages of its own.

Like moments prior, their bodies were locked together. She flexed her legs with his every thrust, giving his plunges added strength, while she lifted her head and brought her muzzle to his ear. He felt incredible, filling her and touching her in ways that no stallion ever had, which presented an issue - if he hadn’t been so fucking full of himself, and treated her respectfully, she might - might consider legitimately courting him.

Of all the battles they’d endured, this was one of the few that truly tried them. She matched his zeal, putting as much effort into the heated exchange as he did, yet neither was willing to surrender themselves to their mounting bliss. While their lives may not have been at stake, they’d each laid something valuable on the line - their pride.

Fenris grunted, furrowing his brow and gritting his teeth, while Kara softly panted beneath him. The steady Plap Plap Plap of their unabashed and vehement hate-fuck could and likely would be heard by other ponies in the building, but that wasn’t their problem. As the minutes gradually slipped by, with their bodies glistening in sweat, they steadily approached their limit.

“Somepony’s getting close…” she wheezed, feeling him starting to flare.

Judging from the way her thighs were shaking, her hitched breaths, and the pitch in her voice, she wasn’t far behind him. “Don’t - Nnnf - worry, I won’t stop when you start howling…”

She pulled back and locked eyes with him, smirking. “Promise…?”

Staring down at her, he was stricken with an irresistible compulsion. She really was an exemplary mare, as beautiful as she was terrifying on the battlefield, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fond of her - not fond enough to settle down or anything, that would be insane, but fond of her nonetheless. Shooting forward, caving to his urges, he locked lips with her and drove his tongue into her muzzle.

The impromptu kiss pushed them both past the brink. His stallionhood throbbed in tune with his wildly beating heart, swelling against her womb and sending pints of his essence through his pulsing shaft, while he groaned into her muzzle. As soon as his scalding seed bathed her interior, she met her limit. An absolute tsunami of her nectar gushed from her stuffed, trembling marehood, washing over his waist and spattering against the sofa beneath them.

Their motions drew to a shuddering halt, as they rode out their climactic ecstasy. Lost to their bliss, neither was terribly concerned with the stalemate they’d reached, yet they realized they’d have plenty of chances to settle the score eventually. Pulling away from one another, leaving a strand of saliva connecting their lips, they both attempted to scowl, failed, and snickered.

“I clearly won,” she weakly attested.

Peeking back at himself, he snickered. “If that was true, why haven’t you let me go?”

Extending a foreleg, she grabbed his head and pulled him to herself. “Just shut up…” she grumbled, locking him in a deep, passionate kiss.