Sun Mote Copse Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats

Unlike his careful ministrations by the tip of his tongue, Ar-Khalba's motions were less controlled. The moment of his hips were no longer guided by his latent desire to please. Instead, selfish desire coursed through him -- taking hold of both his mind and body. He lost himself to the motion and moved himself against her, within her, without thought. He was possessive in his passion, but not in a conventional sense. She was not his, not permananly at least, but as he rocked her body forward with his rhythmic thrusts, he laid as much a claim on her as any. With his jaw gripping lightly on the scruff of Asherah's neck, Ar-Khalba tightened his grip as a rare and low growl passed his lips.

Regarding the women of the Malkaria, Ar-Khalba treated them gently -- but now, he was far from gentle. He eased her into the throes of pleasure in preperation for this, of course, but he now took her roughly. However, his selfish motions seemed to resonate within his lover as her voice poured loudly from her lips. Her climax was violent -- its power rivaling the intensity of the All-Consumer -- so much so that he could feel the aftershocks wrack her body as he continued.

She quaked and quivered beneath him as she surged with holy pleasure --  but he was not done with her, nor would he relent until he had had his fill of her.