Mevure gently caresses your face, his charcoal claws slowly running down your cheeks and down to your neck.

his hands tremble as they rest on your shoulders, terrified of accidentally hurting you.

"..you're so soft."

Mevure whispers, his voice a deep rumble - like a boulder rolling down a hill.

It was a classic Beauty and the Beast tale, except Mevure wouldn't become a prince with a kiss.

That didn't matter to you, though. You loved him all the same.