"Wow, five," she blinked, knowing she was unable to process the true horror of what that would have been like since his lifespan didn't really compare to hers. 'Cub' was two years ago for her and it had been a time of hectic learning, hurting her head as she had human education pushed onto her while she fought down her cougar instincts to run and roll and bite and pounce. Her childhood had been hideously painful in those respects; restrained and regimented and she could imagine he'd had a hard time doing all those horrible things (learning) while changing into an angry little wolf every month or so. She had sympathy but no real understanding so that was as far as her comments went.
The fact that his mother was dead was somewhat mournful for him, she supposed, and a spike of regret passed through her own heart as she thought of her own mother and father being gone, but that was as much emotion as she could conjure in his presence. They were talking of mating and even if he wasn't aware of it, their pheremones were releasing and melding in the air, stimulated by his thinking about her in such a fashion, responding to the attraction hormones she'd already been throwing his way. Death was a natural consequence of life and life was all about cramming in every possible experience you wanted to have before you went, as far as she could tell. She felt like she'd wasted too much of her life as it was.
"For life?" she giggled, throwing him admonishing looks. "Why would I be with one person for ten years? That's ridiculous! And no, I haven't mated with anyone. Came close a couple of times recently," with my brother, "but it got stopped. It won't now though, right?" she asked him eagerly, giving into her instincts and crawling over onto him, straddling his lap.
She pressed close to him, her braless breasts squashed against his chest as she rubbed her face alongside his and then down along his neck, closing her eyes and scenting him as she'd been wanting to do for the past however-many hours. Part of her was aware she was being rude, writhing atop him as she was, grinding against him and rubbing her head and throat from one side of his to the other, but it was too good to stop. A shower would've been a far more polite choice but he'd seemed so much more open to her that she couldn't resist the urge to bathe him in her scent instead.
He'd probably stop her before she got too far, she considered (for she'd always been stopped before anything really good had happened so far), so she moved quickly, letting instinct guide her as her hands worked their way up inside his shirt at the small of his back and she stopped twisting her head against his throat long enough to nip gently at his skin instead. A rumble of encouragement was turning over inside her chest every now and then, too - not quite a purr, but working its way toward one.