Ravensblood Forest oh, you are the roots that sleep beneath my feet and hold the earth in place [m]

So, the tempest would not conceive puppies from this particular union. Olive nodded her head as if she should have known; she was learning much today about her own womanhood. Experiencing so much, so soon could easily overwhelm a wolf and Olive found herself relieved to have a guide — and especially by a man she loved and trusted implicitly. Olive leaned in towards him as and nibbled at the base of his velveteen ear, reminiscent of their passionate consummation. “Yes, many, many, many more times.”  

and it was the truth.

He wanted her to come closer, and Olive could honestly say she wanted nothing more in that moment. The little ashen body picked itself up off the cool, smooth stone and draped itself against her lover, most of her weight leaning against his powerful form. The fae stretched her willowy legs out beside her, shifted onto her side and lay her head and neck delicately on his shoulders. Olive was remiss to leave his warmth and would easily concede to any of his invitations. In fact, the woman luxuriated in it — as life had proven that love was the sweetest thing in the entire world. Sweeter than the stars and sweeter than the moon. Sweeter than the stories held in the patterns of plants. It all made her feel a little guilty, but Olive felt convinced that this was the truth; the ultimate understanding. 

Truthfully [and in a more practical manner], they were lucky to have each other’s warmth: for it was the cusp of winter and soon the snows would blow in and truly test the durability of their open-facing den, a place of sex and depravity [of the best kind.] Of course, the thick, sap-stained sentinels block would most of father winter’s buffeting winds… but Olive worried. The earth was not always a kind place and Olive was the true definition of a summer wolf. Though, she was no longer a wanderer and now had a family and her soul mate to help bear the weight of the season. 

“Did you know that I had a dream about you, my king?” she inquired nonchalantly, having forgotten the latent dream that came to her during that day’s lakeside interlude.