[ There are sounds Molly drags out of him like replies to those mewls, deep growls that rumble free on accident like they do in battles when under strain, and they gain volume as Molly begs to be marked up. Fjord surges down to clamp a lovebite on the curve of a shoulder, teeth and tusks kneading in firmly to bruise, leaving their lasting echoes for the next few days. It's as he loses his focus on holding off that his thrusts grow harder and he drags Molly closer, the tiefling's dick rubbing against a green belly as he's fucked the way Fjord has been day-dreaming of for weeks, so good at taking the thick cock driving desperately into his heat.
More bites litter higher up Molly's throat, switching to the other side as Fjord nuzzles from one pulse-point to another; a red eye on a strained tendon prompts a snarl and he bites over that, laving it with his tongue to paint it in a kiss and make it go away. ]
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More bites litter higher up Molly's throat, switching to the other side as Fjord nuzzles from one pulse-point to another; a red eye on a strained tendon prompts a snarl and he bites over that, laving it with his tongue to paint it in a kiss and make it go away. ]