Silver Moraine [m] I a[m] the edge of the blade,

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it brought a chuckle from the behemoth. he had known her to be so vicious, cunning. different than any of the other women atop the glacier. satori enjoyed the spirits, the hearth of the realm. svalla was still wild, but she had a tongue on her that ran itself straight into the ground. tikigâk, though, was solemn. a quiet beast that lingered around each waking corner.
ready to strike.
he wondered what she thought when he got there first. with the persistence of his hips. a true testament to the dances of dances, nature's carnal waltz that he was no stranger to. not immune to it.
and he is merciless with her. a woman who covets so much strength beneath her black furs should only be treated by the hand that feeds her. how many times has she scavenged from his carcasses? how many times had she lingered by his borders, assessing him for her own mating right?
it brought a tight smirk to his face. knowing that even the strongest of women would fall to their inhibitions.
and she enjoyed it. faust's teeth were locked to her scruff at her snarls, tugging with the weight he usurped from months of honing his craft. enough to leave the sedimentary bruises of their union.
bound together as two for the time, he found himself peppering soft kisses to where he had set his jaws. to her shoulders, her back.
yeah, he thought. i could do this for a week.