Sleepy Fox Hollow [m] nomajoka

it was given in the way she adjusted in anticipation of his weight, ears swinging back to hear the grittiness in his tone, the fraying rein of control — where was the man who had used his teeth and blows to subdue her?
not quite gentle; heda gave her answer, heeding how anselm wanted her to group muscle and bone until she felt as if she were a waiting pyre and he the flame to light them both. 
god had taken everything from her and given it back piecemeal, and heda could hardly find gratitude in herself from day to day.
this was not love, she reminded the strident ache of her flesh attuned in response to his own, almost mirroring anselm; when he gave her the almost-intimacy of a kiss she had shut her eyes again. she could not pretend he was caracal, she would not dishonor her husband in that way.
but for a moment she was able to pretend that she was a new wife again, about to lie with her beloved for the first time, the images fed by the surprising intimacy of the hollow man.
a breathy, soft sound was the only one she could muster to encourage anselm, but it was there, audible among the cold billowing of the faewood trees.