Dragoncrest Cliffs & all of the ghouls come out to play (mtr.)

In the small time it took for her to look and know her soul would wade forever in the depths of his eyes, Verx had taken it upon himself to nuzzle into the snowy crook of her jaw, mouth pressed near her flickering pulse point. She seized up, a quiet, broken breath leaving her while her heart thrummed throughout her entire being. He had to feel it; she wanted him to feel it, how it thrashed with anxious abandon in her breast.

”V-vberx,” came the weak, ardent bumble of his name. The herbalists’ eyes shuttered into crescent moons at the initial contact, warmth searing down her throat as a timid whimper left her for this. It was hard to breath; where air should be, only his scent existed in her lungs. ”When I returned,” the salt of her tears stinging, ”there was nobody I longed to see more than you. Whenever I return, I—“

In the time she’d known him, on the stance of power and rank, Verx had never been one to submit—as far as she was aware. She’d never heard him whine; it made something heavy-lidded and self-indulgent and longing, low within her, want to groan in answer.

So she took notice of his bent posture, felt just as helpless and willing, but made no other move. Not yet. Not when he was so near and dear to one of the most sensitive parts of her body; overloaded with it, quivering hard against him. But... she curled her elegant neck over him, a thin shoulder twitching of its own accord. Unable to help how she faintly writhed for him—wanting to flee out of instinct at his dominant aura, but finding this irrisistable and staying, regardless. She’d become an entire knee-jerk reactor upon him.

Then, she pulled away, lavishing his cheek and jaw with little kitten licks as she went. Eyes full of rapture, rounder than full moons, somehow able to gently pant, ”A-Aurëwen.” Breathless, as all of the missing-him and hoping and wistfulness peaked, making her voice warbling, ”I was born as Aurëwen.”