Barrow Fields Lord, show [m]e how to say no to this

The sound of her whine was enough to drive him to madness. Kjalarr was drunk on her scent. Though none of this was unfamiliar to the viking it had been a long time and in some ways this made it a novelty all over. And this pallid stranger was so much more bold than his unknown partner the first time as was evidenced as she drew nearer and he felt her nibble at his thighs and crotch. He let out a low growl, that sensation utterly foreign and new to him. Yet, it only enticed him further. A low whine slipped from betwixt his lips and the fire in his belly and loins burned, threatening to burn him from the inside out. Kjalarr made to nip at her thigh as he nosed her tail, drinking in her scent again with flared nostrils. It was like a Beserker high, a high that would not end until he left his claim upon this valkyrie. Much more brazen than he'd been his first time he drew his tongue against her before pulling back, the taste of her lingering upon his tongue, telling him all that he needed to know. She was receptive, that much her scent told him, but if she was ready for him then the viking saw no need to dally. There would be plenty of time for that when they were stuck together from their union.