Two Eyes Cenote [cp] [m] hunger of the pine,

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Quick the royal was to clutch at the collar with his fangs, casting it from her fur onto the bedside. He moved above his betrothed, allowing the obsidian length of him to cover her. Toula would feel the possessive growl as he slid his maw along her lip and down over her throat. His fierce want was only slowed by the greater pleasure of watching her face and listening for the sweet inflections of her voice as he drew his kiss across her wrists.

“Half-seductress, half-saint,” he teased into the warm crook of her elbow, every landmark given the slow strength of his ministrations. His shoulders arched high as he followed her curves lower in a gliding of teeth over waist. No season had yet to well inside her, but she was undeniable, too pure for the dust of the desert. And she was his.

Ardently he crossed the soft pink flesh of her belly, where the strokes of his kiss would grow longer, stronger. Only after he'd driven himself to a unrelenting point did he pull back abruptly, suspending his breath above the base of her tail, face lifting to catch the jadeite in her eyes. His mouth hungered to be undone by her taste, a tongue touched the points of his teeth.

“You’re mine, Toula. You always will be.” Fierce love flooded through the ichor in his veins.

But it was Set who made his eyes gleam.