Otatso Wetlands [m] dans cho

She spoke with movement and touch that was a language he could understand. Even though she was a stranger, and him a new initiate to manhood, he understood that he would need not hesitate. He could reach and in turn, so could she. He felt her lips at his cheek, and closed his eyes as she traced along his jawline. He flirted with danger, now that the temptation was so great, immune to the peril he would normally associate with having fangs so close to his windpipe. With each second he felt his heart rising in his chest, flooding him with warmth that spread and tingled through his extremities. Each touch received was rewarded in turn as he learned reciprocity; he was a willing student, learning from a capable tutor.

One experience had awakened him and now, he no longer wished to sleep. Curiosity caused him to stall, and he would deny her initial request so that he might fulfill it instead with touch for a few moments, only to find that it made him feel touch-starved and more desperate with each passing second. Denial nearly brought him to his own breaking point, so when he reached for her, it was with urgency. 

He awoke again- and with ragged breaths, succumbed to the dream he would want to live in for the rest of his life.