Little Goat Mountain [m] eyetooth

she would find him a skilled cartographer as he mapped the terrain of her fierce body. it has only ever been loved by warriors, eivor's flesh; it was her mantra and doctrine that she not stray from this practice and she was pleased with her choice in akavir.

his own body told stories of its own, scars beneath fur, ridges of flesh hidden by the heavy richness of his pelt. the golden eyes by turns were dark with want, closed in pleasure, piercing in the grasp of his stare.

his arms were strong. her tall femininity, often a dissuading factor for lesser men, was not a reason for akavir to retire now. he met her open want with his own.

a gasp took to the cold air when the creek wolf hilted himself; eivor moved in rhythm as well as tease, intending that the both of them be too exhausted to do more than collapse in wavering.

but for now, there was only heat and clasping, their voices mingled in unabashed delight in soft echoes though their place in the sunspire.