Bearclaw Valley the wake [m]

no that was perfect :D

pillared by ulysses' strong limbs, the man's chest brushing his withers, merrick closed his eyes with a low rasp of shuddering breath as he was collared. pain spread from the clench of the warrior's powerful jaws; he allowed himself to be pulled back and up and laughter vibrated in his throat.
"this is what i want," he confirmed, humbled and titillated by the thought of echoing a beg. king merrick, brought low by a knight, the one who wore silver for eyes and handled the leader of ursus as though he were powerless. 
his ears burned with the remembered sensation of the other nipping, laving with hot tongue —
an impatient growl thrumming in the cavern of his chest. would ulysses need more encouragement? he hoped not, for his patience was wearing, grating beneath the ground of the soldier's teasing body.