Wheeling Gull Isle my fondest memory is getting stabbed with a variety of knives. (mtr.)

Regarding the look proffered back to him was only more than Vonn could and would handle. In one breath be reined in the last of his sanity; and dispelled it all with another. Consent given, the crow was exceedingly patient as Firefly jostled about, forgave him for his fall, and teased up the line of his spine to show for it.

​Then, with a nudge to the tail, Vonn swept onto his hinds, and they finally — finally — joined. For the corsair’s sake, he went slow, so slow, and paused every half-beat or so to let him accommodate for... well, this foreign invasion. heh

A rasping, unholy groan left him, and for a moment Vonnaruil could only keep himself pressing against and into the burnished male beneath him; nuzzle and mouth at that untorn ear. “Me too,” he wisped, giving a languid, tormented rut — and then another, and another, until he hitched his hips, anchored into his hocks, and began a steady, incremental rhythm.