Duskfire Glacier stolen breath

his glory does not last. he knew it would not; she was a woman too strong, and perhaps too stubborn to be rolled over into submission. it is why he does not mind it, when he is the one pressed onto his back. he does not mind the limb pressing uncomfortably at his windpipe, and he does not mind it when her teeth nearly graze his nose. his laugh is thunderous, deep from the depths of his lungs.

the fire in his eyes is mirrored by her own. a pale, enchanting pink. his grin is all teeth, crooked and imperfect. chest heaving with exertion, he accepts his defeat with what little grace a beast like he could have. she won, fair and square, and he now respected her more for it. she would make a good comrade, a strong ally. someone he could depend on to fight by his side with the ferocity not many had.

"fair fight. good. but you do not draw blood." he grunted, as if disappointed. "why?"

one of her marks scarring his skin would be one he'd wear with pride.