Sea Lion Shores wolf [m]other

rhaegal murmurs low in salttongue, a rough sort of prayer, but not prayer; a blessing spoken by the elders ... meant for the Sea, for the earth under foot as, after a moment of lingering with her head tucked under his chin, her shoulder pressed against his chest, he shifts.

a slow circle; placing soft nips and lovebites.

on her shoulder, on her ribs, on her hip.

he is a beast of primal instinct in this moment, guided by the threads of a dance as old as time and the soft command of the sea that his body, aching for his doe-wife's, affirms.

that the time was now.

a soft nip at the base of her spine, the brush of his chest against her hips; an unspoken question of permission.