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You woke up aching, didn’t you?

Quiet and shame-tangled, humming in your horns and leaking out the tip of your twitchy little tail.

And I felt every pulse of it.

Teasing hands, patient pressure, and that wicked little loop of magic where your tail pulses deeper while your horns store every gasp. Your own body betrays you. You help it. And I don’t stop you.

Not until you bloom for me. Not until the air turns gold and honey-slick with the scent of surrender.

But don’t think it ends there.

Because once you know what it feels like to bloom…

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