Lyre could hear her struggling and kicking at his pack mate, Syron, and swiftly set out to put a stop on it. His paws lessened on her hands, then put his full weight back on, allowing her to slide and inch or two downward towards the rocks below. Syron adjusted his position, and pushed his head back up her skirt, and once again pressed his wet nose to her hairless little mound. He then gave her a small lick, tasting her, and enjoying what she tasted like, as well as her scent which filled his nose. All of her movements and squirming served no problems for Syron and his adventurous tongue and nose, which was now licking at her lightly.