Lost Creek Hollow inflexus

the sweet fire of a fine vintage singed in his veins as germanicus allowed himself a long look of admiration slip softly along the elegance of the straining flanks, the flurry of droplets beaded as if they were each an opal upon the fine points of the shadow.

the riverwater, flattening rich dark pelt against the slim waist and the muscular shoulders.

"no," he said with difficulty, mouth offering another inscrutable smile as he bent to eat, tasting the clear taste of the fresh catch.