Emberflame Ridge beat your breasts, young (m)aidens

He needed no further invitation.

She squirreled her way between his forelegs, the limbs eagerly hooking around her hips, then in a scramble he climbed to where he needed to be.

Tulimaq was not a man who cared for preamble; he sought what he wanted of her, grasping at her scruff roughly between his teeth to keep her in place, to stop her from escape should she change her mind.

There was pleasure, but it wasn't something tender or kind. He took his time to enjoy himself.