Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Ah, to feel her there, pressed against his ever-beating heart. Crevan often marvels at the bold color of Merida - red, like the blood coursing through him - and how wildly it clashes against his own mute, yellowed tones. The way her slender, black-gloved paws situate themselves around his own is all the more interesting to him than their discussion on how Modicum and Astarael are a world apart from theirs.
The wolf is focused on how his nose trails just above her own when Merida tilts her sly mouth up towards him, and he wonders at all the ways his own lips might fit against that cupid’s bow …
The she-fox interrupts his thoughts, causing Crevan to blink in half-interest to her sweet, worried plea. “The gentlest I’ve ever seen her.” He muses to himself, smiling through her worry. He doesn’t even mind that she requests he stay safe, (where was the fun in that?) only finds himself nodding once as she curls against him, and lowering his body towards the earth to envelope her in his embrace.
“All this talk of danger,” He rumbles, shoving his pointed nose roughly against Merida’s shoulder to flip the fox on her back. His outstretched forelegs will be waiting to catch her, (really all it takes is a little twist on her part,) but he’s longing to ruffle her ticklish spots if she’s got them and the wolf isn’t really in the mood for no tonight, “I’d rather be talking about you.”
Unabashed, the wetness of his nose is suddenly thrust into the stark whiteness of her breast. He inhales her, parts his teeth to nip the tender skin beneath gently and never in the same spot twice. “We should den here, if you like this place enough.” The wolf suggests, somewhat muffled by the way he’s trailing kisses down her belly, “Leave our scent here, make it ours.” Merida’s lover growls.
@[Merida] [*waggles eyebrows*]