Moonstone Quarry [M] Do you dare to tame my fire?

he came to her like dusk over the mountain—inevitable, hushed, and holy.
the quarry breathed around them, but his world had shrunk to the storm in her eyes. her voice, a whisper trembled through the stillness, cracked him open like spring cracks the ice: solharr… please.
the plea struck deeper than a spear.
he said nothing at first, only looked at her—truly looked. the wind tousled her fur, her chest heaved, and the glow in her eyes was not fear, no—invocation. she was wind-born flame and dusk-drenched fire, and he had never wanted more in all his long, lonesome life than to worship where she burned.
he stepped closer. pressed into her side. his mouth found the soft curve of her shoulder, trailed upward as if following the path of stars. when he finally spoke, it was low, coarse with the weight of everything he meant:
i have warred, and i have wandered. but this— his brow touched hers, their breaths braided, —this is the only altar i kneel at now.
his nose brushed her cheek. her trembling stirred something ancient in him, something not even the quarry’s stone could contain. he felt it in the marrow: the seed of a future. the haunting thought of tiny cries. little paws. the weight of fatherhood. of legacy. and still—
if you carry the dawn, i will carry the night. if you carry life, i will carry you.
his voice was thunder wrapped in velvet. his body curved to hers like a vow.
his lips brushed her temple, her jaw, her ear.
he gave her no more words, only the answer she had already called into being—his body, wrapped in hers, a prayer made flesh.