Duskfire Glacier burn

his chest still heaved with the remnants of their war, breath hot against the tangle of fur and blood between them. the snow beneath had melted to slush from their fury, their weight, their heat. and still, he remained atop her—not in dominance, but because he couldn’t yet rise. not from her. not from this.
her laughter cuts through the haze like sunlight through cloud. his gaze sharpens—piercing—and finds hers, just as her paw settles over his heart. a place few had ever touched. a beat steady and strong, even after all they’d spent in one another’s ruin.
no, he breathes lowly, voice rough from the sparring, from his silence. i haven’t.
he watches her—truly watches her—and there’s something behind the glacier in his eyes. something old and aching. there is the man i missed, she had said. and perhaps he missed her too.
but faust did not say such things.