Sea Lion Shores our iron coffin

he touched her then, bringing to life a roaring current beneath her skin. the fur beneath his roving lips rippled, standing on end. she watched from the corner of her indigo eyes, her neck stiff with unspeakable sensation. 

it was instinct alone, not experience, that compelled astara then. with a curl of her spine she drew her muzzle along the length of merrick’s neck, resting her head possessively across the fiery swath of his shoulders. deeply, the sprite breathed — trembling still, but no longer wary.