Dragoncrest Cliffs i could put my teeth on your throat—i could howl against your hair (mtr.)

The moment she felt his shadow caress her, she whined — something her fevered, avaricious mind could barely recall ever doing. And then he descended from the darkness, curving around her and exacting his own tender, insidious ministrations. All she could do was weakly rut her boney hips back into his belly, her tail feathering anxiously. All she could do was let him feast on her in every way; in a way that left her quivering and squirming against him. All she could do was part her swollen lips in a soft moan as she felt his claws prick at her bared throat.

Nothing needed to be said. She only knew her lover-of-war by the sea, and that his name had become a verse enscribed into her engulfed soul. 

And then he’d tousled her porcelain ruff into that indolent mouth she’d kissed so many times, beseeching her to rise, so she did. Quivering, an incoherent mess between her aching, smeared thighs as she steadied for him; a deep arch in her svelte spine as her breathe stumbled into something quiet and steady and low. Even then, she reveled in the restraint that was there ... but notched her feathery tail aside for him, all the same.

Then, Aure couldn’t help but cant a heavy-lidded, almost begging look at him from over a thin shoulder; fevered, starlit eyes giving themselves entirely into the sea that was his own gaze. Otherwise, she nearly came at the mere sight of Verx: the knowing, venereal heft in his shoulders; that heaving, dark musculature ready to be used for her. 

With a gentle moan borne of anxiety as she clenched around nothing, she backed up until the swell of his dark chest molded into her pale shoulders; her chin to her fluttering breast as she massaged her tailbone into the sinewy tapering of his lower stomach.