Nekro

"Perhaps, I will," he speaks at last, finding the sound of his voice, pressing a kiss to Young Wolf's cheek and succumbing to the softness of her skin. He is a gone man. He should return to a clearer path, to something more certain, but he cannot make himself. Inappropriate as he finds it, he wants her too badly. And she clearly wants him, too.

"Then what are you waiting for," she whispers, and Saladin realises all over again that he took her bait - and most willingly.

She has come prepared. Her lips whisper a vixen's siren song, her hands explore him ruthlessly. The Iron Banner crest flames on her chest, and he rests his hand against the hard plate, yearning to feel her below it.

She has him in a firm grasp, his heart burning with desire and affection. And she lets him rid her of enough clothes that he may enjoy her thoroughly, but not too much to leave space for more temptation.

Her lips are on his lips once again, and Saladin groans when her hands have him in grasp again, but now between his legs. She knows exactly how to touch, and she plants seeds of desperate fantasies in his mind as she strokes him.

Their passion is heated. He is strong enough to hold her against the wall, damn be politeness. He has her deep and rough, he has her moaning his name, and he never thought it might sound so hoarsely in Young Wolf's voice.

Her trembles feel too good to last him longer. Her fingers, clawed in the fur of his cloak, are ferocious. And her yearning eyes, urging him to finish the job, are too tempting. So he follows, right over the edge, in a wave of relief that he has denied himself for way too long.

And clarity, and affection storm his heart. No, he does not regret this. Yes, he will have her again.