Duskfire Glacier [m] Tshärr

“You are lucky you hunt well, coarse man,” Ayovi fires, words mingling with the sounds of straining breaths. She chances another nip, this time to the crook of his elbow, remembering how pleasure looked on him. She knew his roseate skin and the husk of his chest.  She spins, cupping their bodies, pressing herself back into him for a blissful note before rounding the caribou once more.
Another bite; another rollick of hips as she falls to elbows in a luring play-bow. “What else do you know?”
The snow is sharp and bitterly cold but the passion makes her an animal in their own world, where nothing exists beyond this shaded ridge.