Stavanger Bay The Pointy End

Passion held deeply in the softness of her green eyes. His own of longing, of deep endearment for the woman at his side. The sweet shyness would always be there, in the fluttering of her lashes, the turning down of her chin as she cast her gaze aside. The quickening of her breath...

The delicacy of her nature had always allowed Arrluk to be easily protective of her, gentle with her. He wanted to give her anything, everything. To raise her up on a pedestal for the pure of heart she wete. Yet it was only her mind which allowed her to be cautious, quiet, uncertain. For her heart and soul was strong, so filled with honesty, dutifullness and loyalty. 

A hidden strength she did not often show was given to Arrluk now, however. One which had his heart beating harder, so much so that he was aware of it beating there in his ribcage. 

Y-yes.. His breath hitches. Until its perfect. His forehead moving to press against her own and he continues his movements. His muzzle arcing around the lining of her muzzle, down her neck, her shoulder. She smells like the waters, flowers and of course her own self, amplified by one-hundred. Every moment he makes - soft, smooth, awaiting with patience for her to tell him to keep going further...