Qeya River [m] ghosts

it is intoxicating. a heady mix of strength and tenderness that shocks through her system. she yields to his guidance, her breath catching as he moves her with a gentleness that feels almost reverent. a worshipper, head bowed to his favorite altar. he is firm yet entirely careful, it ignites a fire within her that she cannot quench, and she leans into it—into him.

she watches him through half-lidded eyes as his kisses trail over her snout and nose, searing themselves into her memory. the touch of his paw against her cheek anchors her even as her senses threaten to spiral out of control. his breath fans across her as he speaks, rough and uneven.

she feels the scrape of his teeth, feather-light beneath her chin, and she cannot help the soft sound that escapes her—a mix of surprise and surrender. her head tilts back to grant him access, a rare thing. he beckons her to roll onto her back. she hesitates for only a moment before giving in fully. the ground is cold beneath her, and yet she hardly feels it, because when she meets his gaze, he sees her for all she is.

a paw comes to rest where his forearm meets his shoulder. the other lifts to trace the line of his jaw. the look in her eyes is heated. she is sure—she wants this, with him.

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fade soon i think….