Lion Head Mesa Krýo

The auburn figure trailed after her slowly, his steps plodded heavily against the earth.

Tamar led him into a storeroom where she moved to busy herself with searching. Arsenio watched her quietly from the entrance. The glimmer of his eyes could not be pulled from the rich warmth of her coat, the diligent way that she leafed through various herbs and medicines.

It was in this moment that Arsenio allowed himself to wonder. What might her coat have felt like against his chest, the scent of her figure mingled with his own? What might she taste like when pleasured?