Sawtooth Spire He's a man of few words, but he talks a lot within.

he lashed his tail at the sharp pierce of her fangs, a desirous, surprised sound thrumming in the deep barrel of her chest. nyx had come alive, a firethorn that tightened his loins and mahler coursed after her without a second thought. no thought of possession, only intrigue, the increased cadence of his heart.
the gargoyle sought to kiss her collarbone, butt his head gently against her shoulder, sweep her shoulder with his lips — he would follow, let nyx set their steps. his lilac eyes had darkened with the pleasure of it, the throb of his own heady groin as he sought the guard hairs between her shoulders with an affectionate sigh.