Shadewood i. silver thracian thaw (m)

Heavy breathing. Skin-on-skin. The warmth of her fur pressed against his paler chest - and then they were through. The fire burned low between them. Separated from her, Asa adjusts his weight and feels the taut nature of his own musclature; strained from the exertion but pleasantly so, warmed all over, blissful. The woman does not hurry to clean herself so much as... Languidly take in the moment, and the pair share a soft glimpse. He cannot help but feel enamoured. Their tryst was like a soothing balm to Asa, and he could only hope he had lived up to whatever potential had brought the woman calling for him.

She had not spoken a word to him yet. Her voice came to him as laughter, but it was not derisive, and he found himself smiling in response. Now was his chance to choose what sort of person he could be for her. The mysterious stranger, tall, dark, handsome? Or perhaps he would go the route of the genteel charmer. Asa was not a social chameleon by any standard so he stood there, letting the pleasant hum drift through his flesh as he watched her; but gradually he became aware of how odd that must seem, how odd he must seem, for his silence. He did not want to spoil the moment or somehow affect how she perceived him - they only knew the carnal side of one-another, and Asa did not want to falter.

It had been a meaningless affair, he told himself. To her he comments, Nice to meet you. Which means, of course, he opts for choice number three: choosing to be his own lacklustre self.