Duskfire Glacier [m] Oomemē

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flagging flesh might have laid skorpa low with another, but the strident grasping of ayovi, the pining of her perfumed body beneath his chest, that wanting touch of teeth, and moreover her voice, her voice; he did not ever think his name had sounded beautiful before — bearwolf took his moments for breath to subside and a new thrumming to begin.

marveling at the rest his body did not need, glittering with a wholly masculine pride for how he had made ayovi raise her voice for him, skorpa fitted flush their flesh anew.

this time he tested her limits and his own, listening for any capitulation to her discomfort which would at once rescind his roughness. elsewise while first they had galloped across a pavilion of beating hooves, now skorpa bid them to the battlefront and tasted the north upon her cry.

as he had adjusted backward to bear his own weight, ayovi's sole delectation now was to remain upon her willowy limbs long as she was able while he fiercely drummed them both through waves of heat and the glacier's simmering cold.

thereafter, it was his own turn to tremble. "regnvand" riding his tones as if it were a prayer.

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