Wheeling Gull Isle wet

How long Komodo stayed in that single spot, nose pressed against the feathered bulb of her ear, breathing in her scent and allowing himself to slip into inebriation — drunk upon her, drunk upon the ceremony, drunk upon the universe — he would never know. The shaman closed his eyes and surrendered to it. Komodo was a man capable of great intensities just as he was capable of deep detachment. This was not always the goal of the ceremonies [it was more often the side effect] but the gods propelled him as they willed; his movements were not his own and, thus, he could not be blamed of his actions. They were a divine liturgy.

Komodo would never not appreciate the feel of a woman close to him, whining thickly and not moving away— wanting him, clearly. There was anticipation on his part and stillness on hers; so he made to nibble at the tendrils of pale fur that pressed against his lips. The brute preened her, hoping to provide the comfort and guidance that she might need from him; but soon his breath became heavy and unconsciously his body moved so that his flank pressed up against hers. The woman felt solid against him, yet still delicate, and his eyes flashed with unabated arousal — he needed her.

It was no coincidence that she had happened upon him moments before the ceremony began… coincidences were a myth. they were not real. nothing ever happened without a holy reasoning.

But this was real; and as such, Komodo backpedaled to pull his ministrations down her body, following the line of blood he had painted upon her, as a painter would have painted his canvas. She was beautiful; made more beautiful by how quickly she succumbed to his strange sort of religion. He wished to tell her just how beautiful she was, but the angakkuq had always been a taciturn man and when in the throes of some otherworldly passion, his tongue lost all words.  But it was no matter; speaking was no longer the only language here! Instead, a roughhewn growl purled from his chest and his body continued to translate the litany that his mouth failed to speak, allowing the earthstalker to fall deeper and deeper under his own spell. He made it to her narrow hindquarters and nibbled at the base of her tail. He was an intuitive man and could not help but feel her hesitation; could see it as her aura changed to reflect the dichotomy of her mind. Komodo pulled away and rested his chin on the crest of her lower back.

“There is no shame in saying no.”