*Oliver*
At this particular moment, the situation warrants hiding my thoughts in a deep, dark cavern, away from even myself. The she-wolf is injured, weak from her ordeal, cold… and still I want to initiate her in the pleasures to be found with me beneath the sheets. What the devil is wrong with me to even contemplate kissing her, to desperately want to tenderly skim my fingers over her face, to gently press my lips to every bruise and scrape as though that action alone has the power to heal her?
And once I’ve done all those things, once I’ve comforted and brought solace to all the places that ache, I’ll carry her to the heavens, separate her soul from her body. If she wants to fly, I’ll gift her with wings of pleasure such as she’s never known.
I’m left with the impression that it woul
