Duskfire Glacier marrok

lousine appreciated his gesture, his attempt at humor — but she would have found it funnier had it not concerned their relationship. she was his. this was known, openly shared between the two.

but was he hers?

i suppose it does, she quirked a brow. but you cannot blame a woman for asking.

she let him close the distance between them, her forelimbs reaching up to rest upon his shoulders. her lips parted and from them snaked a long pink tongue, grazing against the hammering pulse in faust's throat.

her voice came low and smooth like a buttery molasses. if no other man is to touch me, no woman is meant to touch you either.