Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

weak, spent, shaking, merrick regarded donovan with a spyglass eye. it was the act of extreme dominance not to take, but to give, a way to break the mind and bend the will. he supposed he should be annoyed, if that happened to be the case, but the madman found he was not. a needlesharp grin toward the impressive, demanding nature of his carnal companion.
"what a fucking slut," he remarked, cylclops-gaze dancing as he stumbled in swathes of pleasure-wrappings, their glissade through his figure. "you're going to do that again to me, sometime," the bear-witch chuffed, an edict on his own land he expected might also benefit this tantric creature.