[ He never gets this wild with anyone else, doesn't want to leave tusk-scratches on their shoulders (oh, the waves, he loves gnawing those tattoos), never feels the need to grind so deep he forgets what life is like outside of Molly's heat. Fjord feels his mate cinch around his cock and he fucks him harder as Molly comes, forcing him closer to the headboard in a quickening bang of wood against the bedroom wall that leaves no one in the bedrooms above or rooms below in any doubt as to what is going on.
Whereas Molly is loud as the nine hells, Fjord comes with a low snarl and grasps at a hip and thigh as he drags Molly back roughly, hauling him back onto his cock instead of fucking forward. Like that, something in Fjord agrees, make him ache with it. His breath pants harshly against the curve of Molly's neck, tusks digging in to hold him steady in a bite as Molly is made his mate, his chosen one, Fjord's mind dances through red-hot instincts. ]
Fuck.
[ His voice is a snarl, sitting back on his haunches so that Molly has to drape back and land squarely on his cock which is still spitting come inside the tiefling's used hole, ridges stretching him nice and wide to take it all even though it shines on green thighs where it inevitably drips free. From this new angle, Fjord can see the slight bulge his cock makes in a lavender navel and his possessiveness rages with satisfaction, palming over it. That's him. Yesyesyesyesyes.
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Whereas Molly is loud as the nine hells, Fjord comes with a low snarl and grasps at a hip and thigh as he drags Molly back roughly, hauling him back onto his cock instead of fucking forward. Like that, something in Fjord agrees, make him ache with it. His breath pants harshly against the curve of Molly's neck, tusks digging in to hold him steady in a bite as Molly is made his mate, his chosen one, Fjord's mind dances through red-hot instincts. ]
Fuck.
[ His voice is a snarl, sitting back on his haunches so that Molly has to drape back and land squarely on his cock which is still spitting come inside the tiefling's used hole, ridges stretching him nice and wide to take it all even though it shines on green thighs where it inevitably drips free. From this new angle, Fjord can see the slight bulge his cock makes in a lavender navel and his possessiveness rages with satisfaction, palming over it. That's him. Yesyesyesyesyes.
Lost in a mating frenzy, his mind blanks. ]
Such a good bitch for me to breed.