Sleepy Fox Hollow Gave up on it, but honey, you got my hopes up

Wylla couldn't remember ever feeling anything so transcendent as Mahler sweeping through her veins, lighting fire to every nerve. With Raptor, it had been all business, devoid of this warmth, this feeling of unity. It took no time at all for Mahler to coax Wylla out of the fear and hesitation she'd felt before, easing the taut muscles of her back and flanks with every billowing breath he sent across her nape, every ripple of bliss he sent cascading through her.

She felt his forelimbs tighten around her hips only a second before he pulled her back harder against him, and Wylla's lips parted in a low groan as things began to really fall into place. She could feel the pleasure that raced through her veins pooling and growing, sparking like electricity, and her every breath was accompanied with a wanting whine or sigh. She arched and reached for the fur of his chin, tweaking it with urgent teeth for only a moment before he breathed her name over the back of her head.

That did something unexpected to her: she shuddered as that growing heat burst and flooded her with a sensation she couldn't describe if she wanted to, blanking out her mind and vision both for a moment. It wasn't just the physical peak, but the emotional one that filled her with adoration and, yes, that growing spark of genuine love that bid her to quietly choke Mahler's name into the alpine air while all the tension drained out of her.