[ There's laughter and grumbling as they resettle, Fjord rubbing his beard against that nuzzling chin with an affection he wouldn't know how to show around their friends. In here it's easy, planting playful smooches down Molly's cheek and neck, one for each peacock feather, tusks grazing the tattoo without so much as scratching. He wouldn't do that, wouldn't hurt Molly in bed (as much as they might drive each other up the wall in the light if day), and he hopes he knows it. Fjord's arms wrap around him in more of a cuddle than intended, the lazy pump of his cock into slick heat like the pull of the tide, always returning for Molly to rely on, and it's certainly erotic but it also stirs his protectiveness to the fore in murmurs against decorated skin. ]
Feels like this because it's you.
[ His palm slides up to cover the main scar, holding Molly securely where he's sat at a slump, Fjord all warmth and bulk behind. ]
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Feels like this because it's you.
[ His palm slides up to cover the main scar, holding Molly securely where he's sat at a slump, Fjord all warmth and bulk behind. ]