#pspspsp

kitty!miguel who’s sense of smell is heightened. If you’re not home for whatever reason, he’ll naturally gravitate to the areas of the house where your scent lingers. His nose guides him to your bedroom and he plops down onto the bed. Big, hulking arms wrapping around your pillow as he takes a deep breath. It smells just like his beloved, he thinks. Miguel closes his eyes, purring contently with his tail flicking back and forth.

kitty!miguel who can help but grow aroused after a bit. He’s never been demanding with sex. You’re both busy people, often too tired to fuck so he’s fine with doting on each other. However, it’d been a while and even he knew he needed his release without having to be in heat. His cock twitched slightly as your smell began to smell more and more delectable. Miguel groaned, fangs barred against your pillow as his hips begun to move against it. He shouldn’t do this- you’d kill him if you found him rutting into your pillows like a…degenerate.

kitty!miguel who’s instincts drive him to please. He could cum from just imagining your teary eyes as he drags his girthy cock in and out of your cunt, cum being forced to dribble out when he pours his third load inside you. Miguel shivered, tail wagging and ears twitching. His claws had come out and torn into the pillow but his hips thrusted into it. This felt good but it wasn’t the same, he wanted to fuck you. Make you whine and groan with white-hot pleasure. Hell- he didn’t even need to be inside you, he thought as his hips sped up. He’d be content with just lapping at your weeping pussy with your hands scratching the ears on his head. He could envision your gentle praises of how good of a boy he was, how good he made you feel.

***************

Lacerta Legate had not always been his name. But he held onto the title with such honor it felt like it had always been a part of him, impossible to imagine without. Much like his armor or magnificent helmet. It was near outlandish to picture the general as anything less than magnificent. And that was what kept you drawn to him. In the cesspool that was the Legions camp, all only knew of violence, unkempt aggression and nothing akin to mercy.

His voice sat above it all, everytime he spoke it was never loud or grating, trying to desperately fill a space with his presence. It wasn't necessary. When he stepped into a tent or out into the fray, a hush would fall for only a moment and his aura held authority. Yet his tone was near gentle. Delicate even at times. Hearing such a voice come from such a man had left you nothing left short of awestruck.

Having been newly captured and kept for nearly a week, you had learned fast what would and wouldn't be wise to do. But unbeknownst to you, something in particular had already saved you from a much more gruesome circumstance.

"A face of a goddess is what I'm told. Show me."