Whitebark Stream put your ring back on honey-tits, you haven't had enough porridge this morning (mtr.)

as the entwine wintersbane takes a pause to treasure the feel of her. her body bowed and curved against and beneath his, and more intimate yet how she feels around him. she engulfs him completely and for this moment of heated want he drowns in her; and the way she tries but ultimately fails at saying his name mid-rut earns her another scrape of his teeth against her shoulder. unlike elixir she does not command him but instead pleads — still fumbling over his name — for him to move. he gives a slow, languid roll of his hips that feels as torturous for him as it no doubt feels for her.

aure's more vocal than he's used to and he thinks to himself very briefly that it shouldn't surprise him. she's quite chatty, after all. winterbane readjusts his weight upon his back paws and moves in earnest then, finding a steady rhythm for each thrust — not too fast because he wants to enjoy this — wants her to enjoy it and because he's in no rush.