Sometimes I think of us as lions. Not just because of the surface level similarities–his long, glorious mane of hair like a dark cloud we both get tangled in or my wide catface and muted, fur-like coloring. Not just because of the way we rest our heads or bodies against each other as we walk or how our comparative sizes mirror the silhouette of a mated pair. It goes beyond that, like there’s something deeper. Like the answer is lurking in the blood.
It’s there in the senses–the quick taste of salt I get off his skin before he disappears into a post-workout shower, the hair that slips between my fingers as I run my hand across his chest. The sound of him sniffing while his nose is tucked against the back of my head, the grimace on my face when he returns from work and the scent of food has smothered his own. We lie across each other in a mangled pile, touching our skin together as much as possible. Our scents and bodies mingle into one and it becomes a challenge to tell limb from limb–but that doesn’t matter anyway. When we’re together, I feel more like an animal than ever before.
It leaks out in the playfighting, as well–the low growls that rumble out naturally during the struggle, the way our teeth sink into flesh. We roll around in a blur, each trying to gain the advantage. He overpowers me and I snap at him, my teeth crashing together centimeters away from his nose. He just laughs, holding my skull in a steel grip and licking a huge wet stripe across my face from chin to crown that I feverishly wipe away the instant he lets me go.
As the sun dips low in the sky, I crawl under the sheets and roll up against his body, pushing on his arm with my head or my nose until he moves it to let me in. Curled up together, the space under the covers is warm like a cave. And even though it’s nothing more than a bed in a room, to us, it’s our own private den. His warm, heavy body forms a protective cage around mine and I place my mouth against whatever skin is closest–seeking the scent and taste of my mate. I press my lips against his skin to feel the blood rushing under the surface. I take in a deep breath of his intoxicating aroma. Neither of us looks much like a lion anymore these days, but there is no doubt we are a mated pair. Deeply connected, fiercely possessive, and irrevocably entwined.
Method of Mancy 