Heron Lake Plateau Rivets and screws.

ailill didn't take the time to ensure rye left — leave or watch, the blackthorn was in no mindset to care about much of anything than his pleasure and what towhee was offering him. witnesses, consequences. whatever. he'd cross those bridges when he came to them. she backed up against his chest and ailill needed no more invitation than that. he shifts the majority of his weight upon his back paws as he rises, the curve of her spine sliding and pressing against his belly as his forelegs grasp her hips and pull her into the cradle of his own. a low growl of pleasure rumbles in his chest as they join, his teeth seeking her scruff as ailill sets the pace with every rapid rock of his hips against her's.