Firefly Ravine Americana

Valmúa sauntered right up, sashaying her hips in a way that made Njord’s hair stand up on end in excitement. His body tensed as his red tail waved like a flag. The Sveijarn took scent along her nape and spine, neck craned over her with his ears drawn forward. He postured, feet practically dancing as he tip-toed next to her. His tongue rolled over his nose, infatuated, but scared to go as far as to touch her. Would Aegir jump out of the bushes at any second and painfully correct him??

Njord glaced over to Merlin who looked a bit lost despite crushing his opening line. “Njord Sveijarn-Corten,” he introduced himself formally, puffing out his chest like a rooster. “I think your babies would have some fun with play-time, right Merlin?” he asked, wondering how far the role playing would go. He moved over to the other guy for security and back-up (although he played it off with a strut). As much as Valmúa turned him on, she scared him too. She was everything he was not supposed to have.