Northstar Vale a grin as sharp as a knife (mtr.)

Renewal and ruination;
something low and hedonic leaves the throat that her lover worries at; that's what she is now, as she cinches herself straining upon him; the brawn of him melding with her spine. Moon lips find midnight mouth, breath one and the same until he releases her with tongue and teeth and she gulps in the crowding dawnmist as he nicks her; unravels from the numbness of the moment, piercing, presents itself to her in shivers flickering the soft heat of her figure. Offerings to her creature self, her wild and fey self; a reminder of the heart that sensuality murmurs throughout.  “Melkor—”

Quivering, elbows and breast meet stone; marred cheek follows; his tonttu rooting herself to it all so that she might writhe properly beneath him; coax him to drape the evendim of himself o'er her, billow down against her stormcloak'd spine. Cinching, slathering  —  the fée swivels rawboned hips, weaving herself incessant upon him; before trilling his name once more and pressing, holding; guiding her sex against his thrusts so that he might rut deep within her; see how long it would take to unmake her.