Luneshale Pass I wonder if I'm being real

Akhtar felt so young all over again, barely established in Akashingo as a hem, with a pretty fellahin seducing him.

Well, Belen, wherever she might be, was long gone (and safe, he hoped in his heart), and pleasure had transformed him into a being of hedonistic snobbery. Like an ugly flower, he bloomed into his role. He reached over his shoulder to pull off the rabbit skin, shaking it free of dust and sitting it on a nearby rock. He’d send a fellahin to wash it later.

As long as I need, hm? He allowed the touch, even leaned into it, barely swallowing the keen that wanted to leave his throat. For all his wanton nature, he didn’t sleep around as much now, out here.