Stavanger Bay you've buried all your alimony butterflies

 
Drunk and savage, he crept forward and followed the Jetsam into the depths of his home. The dank air inside was a welcome to him, and the saline winds that whistled through the caverns brought a strength to his spirit. The plum whiskey that flowed through his system was entrancing. He could almost feel the beauty of the gods as they ushered him forward.  
 
In this state, the titan did not realize that the female he hungered after was indeed not Deirdre. In his mind's eye, he saw her frosty coat and instead of burning embers, her eyes radiated with the colors of the woods that she called home. The sway of her hips was enough to drive him mad. The way that the ocean breeze played with the fur along her neck and shoulders urged him to press onward – to sink himself deep within her. He knew that he needn't ask permission of the healer. She had promised herself to him and he would be pleased that she would bring him the children he hungered for. He was lost in the inhibitions; the burning in his gut had caused his breath to come in ragged huffs. This was what he needed to feel whole once again.  
 
Diablo, she uttered in a voice that sounded like the sweet breath of the forest leaves. A smirk creased his features and he closed the distance that had been between them. The moniker had no meaning to him, but the devil did not need another to verify that he was the embodiment of sin.  
 
With a ragged gesture, he moved to wrap his limbs around her frame. His yellowed fangs were bared and aimed for the nape of the woman. The scent of her seemed to wrap around him and lure him onward. Still, the titan's breath smelled of sweet and aged plums.