Nova Peak Wēkenben

Her eyes drift close, melting into the slow opened warmth that breathes sweetness upon her lips. “Mund,” she murmurs, smiling, then weds their lips again with savoring slowness. “Kiss.” Soft licks part his darkened maw, tongue slipping over teeth to graze with his own. “Tongue.” The huntress grins.
Ayovi pulls back to bring his face into view, all attention given to the northman’s hearth-fire eyes. For a long moment she hesitates, blue eyes searching, chasing sounds until all she hears is her heartbeat and his breath. “Love,” she names.
“I love you, Skorpa,” and that was it. All that mattered.
Everything there was to say.