Duskfire Glacier [M] a place for your head

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it does not take him long to notice the woman does not leave. she remains, paw over icy stone; he feels eyes burning into his backside, and blackfell does not bother to settle. he could not sleep, could not rest, when he was being stared upon. his head turns rather brashly, eyes cutting to traipse once more upon her.
her words bring him great pause. at first, confusion—visible in the way his eyes narrow upon her, the way brows scrunch. then, realization. she offers him her body; something stirs. the night is dead, the ice settled, and still that fire licks steadily at the skin beneath his hide. you wish to fuck? his voice is momentarily amused. gutted by a humor he thought might have been lost upon him as of late.
he turns. sharply. paws thudding, his nose flaring as he draws in the woman's scent. there, something he had not noticed before. his expression remains flacid, eyes of quiet nothinginess roaming her figure. he observes. he sees. he does not hate what he sees—he would have snarled at the suggestion otherwise.
but he does not move from where he is.