Swiftcurrent Creek [m] Atlantic

He clutched her close. Arms tucked neatly around her, holding the two of them together; the moment passed that would grant her freedom should she want it. It was brief, and she allowed it to slip on by - so he slipped on closer, the man's pale face sliding up her neck and stoking the flame that sat there upon her nape. Red mingled with silver and cream; instinct burned in him now. While the mountain did not wish to crush the fire, he knew he had to be nearer - so he gave a rumbled warning before plunging forward, taking the last shred of true youth from Tuwawi and making his wife a woman.

Njal did not wish to hurt her. He was overtaken by the heat of his loins and the desperate wanting of a lustful, loving man. A great noise sprang from him as he pulled her hips close, over and over, feeling himself become one with the woman he so admired; naturally he fell upon her and his gaping, panting muzzle lay open - his tongue tasting her fur for a few moments before a savagery took him over. Njal reached and grabbed at Tuwawi's scruff and pulled himself higher on her back, bringing her hips as close as possible. He held her like this, as if to take with force, mindful of his teeth upon her neck. It was rougher than he had imagined it would be, but the wildness of the moment had possessed him.