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Ginger's Heat

©2024 Bruno Hirschkoff

*

The following is a work of erotic fiction and is intended for adult audiences only. The author asserts the right of intellectual ownership of all characters, locations, concepts and actions depicted. All characters depicted are fictional, consenting adults.

This work is not to be altered, copied, redistributed or reposted on any other site or service, and is not to be used to train language models or any generative AI.

*

Part 1

It was spring in Rhocarn. The trees around the Temple of Dytaea in the woodland north of Stillwater Cove bore their vibrant new leaves in a riot of vigorous green, drawn forth from the winter thaw by the warmth of the suns. The prayers to Dytaea, the goddess of wilderness and the forest, at this time of year were particularly upbeat and full of joy; a near-continuous chorus from the core of the Temple. It was a familiar sound to Ginger, having been raised in the Temple like so many other orphans and 'unexpected' offspring since she was a calf. The young reindeer was on the cusp of adulthood, and as she had been told for several years by her tutors, there would be things she would experience that were outside of the familiar.

Ginger squirmed uncomfortably. Well… perhaps not entirely uncomfortably, but with a particular breathless tension with which she became more familiar with each passing day. With her eyes open and scanning for anyone who might be approaching, and her sensitive ears swivelling for the same purpose, her hand moved with a very particular, very determined rhythm beneath her clothing. For the past few days, she had become driven to hide in the observatory or in the back of the granary during the day to satiate her—she had never felt anything quite like it. Certainly, she was well acquainted with the sexual needs of her body, and how each month there was a week of heightened desire. But this month was different. Her whole body burned and tingled and ached for it, all the time, and while the priestesses and initiates giggled and told her it was normal and not to worry about it too much, she felt like she was going mad. But she couldn't stop, and found herself more and more drawn to seek the solitude of masturbation, over and over. Often in riskier places than she would typically consider. Hoping, and equally hoping not, to be caught by one of the men of the Temple, or by a visitor from outside. But most of the men she would be likely to encounter were of little particular interest to the vigorous young reindeer.

The exception was Sammael. He was a few years older than her, but had been raised at the Temple in the same manner as her. She'd known him her whole life. A fallow buck, he'd grown into a svelte, handsome young man; someone she routinely fantasised about in the throes of her secretive writhing. She knew he preferred the company of other men, and regarded her almost as a little sister more than a potential lover, but that did not cool her ardour. She had followed him around like a shadow for as long as she could remember, captivated by his easy manner and roguish charisma. As they'd grown, he had become more distant from her; he became a man, and while he remained a resident at the Temple, he spent more and more time outside of its grounds in Stillwater Cove. But that did nothing to lessen Ginger's love for him. She found herself watching the road that led south to the town, waiting for him to return in the evenings.

But this evening, she was not.

She allowed her eyes to flutter closed, and her breath to come in rapid, shallow gasps and grunts. Her whole body was tense, reclined as she was over a flour sack in the granary storeroom. It was cool, dark and private in there; the bakers would not come for their daily flour until early the next morning, so Ginger felt that this was about as private as she could be.

Her pants, made from a blend of linen and wool that gave them a degree of stretch, were unlaced and hung low on her narrow hips. Her tunic was raised and twisted aside, exposing one of the reindeer's small breasts to the cool air. It vibrated and trembled both with her heated breaths and the rapid, urgent shaking motion of her masturbation. Her arm ached with the tension, but she could not stop. Her slender fingers rubbed wetly across the firm, explosively sensitive nub of her clitoris inside her pants, a staccato, undulating rhythm first up and down, and then side to side, that drove her pleasure higher and higher with each flurry of movements. She had lost count of the number of times she'd felt the ecstatic convulsions of orgasm that day. It was getting harder to reach, but she was determined. The crotch of her pants and her inner thighs were crusted with her arousal, and she brought her other hand up to paw at her breast, twisting the sensitive nipple.

That explosion of momentary ecstasy was only seconds away when she heard rapidly approaching hoofsteps, and a familiar voice.

“Ginger?"

Her breath left her in a frustrated rush, hissed forth between her teeth. A slow, involuntary throb rippled through her lower body. She'd been so close! Hurriedly, she stood up on shaky legs. Her core throbbed again, then again, although it was dull and slow, not the frantic peak of a climax. She half-laced her pants and tugged her tunic down to cover herself.

“Ginger? Are you in here?"

“Sammael!"

“Ginger! What are you doing hiding back here?"

The reindeer flushed hotly. “Nothing!"

The fallow buck's violet eyes narrowed, and he sniffed the air delicately.

“Ugh, that definitely is not nothing, Ginger," he said. “You do know that I can smell you, yes?"

Ginger bleated in embarrassment and swatted at Sammael's chest. “Don't tell anyone! It's been… ugh, I can hardly control it…"

Even as she spoke, she fell against the fallow, and felt fresh heat bloom in her loins.

“There there," Sam said half-heartedly, patting her shoulder awkwardly. Then he grinned. “Did I interrupt at a bad moment?"

She groaned in frustration, and pressed her body against Sam's tightly. She filled her lungs with his scent; subtly masculine, with a faint tang of sweat. Her mind exploded with images of Sammael's nudity. Of how it would feel to have his body over hers, moving against her, grunting and holding her and pushing his…

“Ugh, Ginger you're incorrigible!" Sam complained.

She bleated and pulled back, realising that she'd been grinding onto his leg and that her hand had pressed down into his crotch. She stared at him, wild eyed and urgent. She felt completely out of control. Like her body was demanding his sexual attention, and nothing else would suffice. As if in a trance, barely able to control her limbs, she advanced on him once more.

“Hold still! I just want to hold it!" the young reindeer instructed, palming at his groin.

“What?!"

Sam twisted away from her and stepped back, and she advanced on him again, her long blonde hair falling around her face, her hand down the front of her pants and her lips parted with heat.

“Ginger we're practically related, it would be wrong!"

“Don't be stupid, you're a completely different species to me! Don't worry, I know how you are, I won't try to do anything!"

“Then why are you... hey!"

Sammael pulled away from the reindeer's persistent fingers, which found the lacings of his trousers and unfastened them.

“You know I'm not interested in women!"

“Neither am I!" Ginger said, stomping her hoof. “Come on Sam, just let me see it for a minute!"

“You've seen me naked hundreds of times!"

“Yes, but always quickly and from a distance; and never you know... up close, or uhm… for a purpose!"

“And if I do let you see it, what then? Look at you, you're a complete mess!"

Ginger fell silent for a moment, and gazed up at Sammael with sultry eyes, her lips parted and pupils dilated.

“Ginger, we should really go and…"

“Sam, please," Ginger interrupted him.

The fallow was holding up his loosened trousers with one hand, and Ginger delicately, if a little shakily, stepped in and laid her hand over his. Her breathing was elevated and shallow, and she could even smell her own arousal by that time, rising from her like smoke.

What was more, it was obvious Sam could smell it too, and despite his attractions lying elsewhere, the pheromones she was producing had a particular effect on him. She could feel the hardness in his trousers, and it made her throb and her fingers to move involuntarily to surround his firmness. Finally, the fallow buck relented, and pulled his hand away. His trousers fell easily to his fetlocks, and Ginger gurgled hornily at the sight of him exposed to her. His cock stared her right in the face, pulsing gently, and for a long moment, silence persisted between the two Cervids, standing in the granary together.

Ginger's breathing became heavier and shakier, and she hunched around herself, staring open-mouthed at her long-standing friend's cock.

“Ginger, what are you doing?"

“Rubbing myself, what do you think I'm doing? Hold still!"

“Ugh!" Sam pulled away and recoiled.

“Sammael! I was nearly finished!"

“That quickly?"

“Yes! You caught me just as I was about to come! Show me your cock again and I'll show you how close."

“Nice try. Stop rubbing it, I'm not interested!"

Ginger bleated and stomped her hoof obnoxiously. “Not fair! I need it, Sam, I'll go mad if I don't!"

“While staring at my cock, though?!"

“Who else's cock would I want to see? You're my friend, and I know you're into men so you won't try to hump me! The priestesses all say I shouldn't do that yet!"

“They mean you shouldn't go looking for sex from just anyone," Sam said. Then he blinked. “You're in heat, aren't you?"

Ginger shivered and nodded.

“What do you normally do when this happens?"

“Hide in the granary and rub myself all day?" she said with a snort. “I've never had one like this before, though! I've had plenty of uhm… softer ones, but this time it's different. It's all I can think about. Oh Sam, please? I just want to see it again…"

She stepped in and pushed the fallow buck's hands aside. His cock had softened a little, but not all the way, and Ginger hesitantly, delicately touched it, caressing it like it was a baby bird with the back of her fingers, until it stood erect once more. Sammael seemed to relent, once more, and Ginger slid her other hand down the front of her pants again. She gasped and hunched, and curled her hand around Sam's cock. He grit his teeth, but tolerated it, even when she awkwardly pushed his foreskin back.

She rubbed herself rapidly and urgently, standing with her knees slightly bowed and her legs apart, hunched around her hand. Within seconds she felt the familiar burning pleasure, bordering on pain, such was its intensity. She mumbled and groaned, and climaxed. She fell against Sammael in the middle of her orgasm, and he caught her. She humped crudely against him until she was done, and then buried her face in his neck in embarrassment.

“Sam, I'm sorry, I…"

“Shut up Ginger. I understand, and it's alright. But… let go of my cock, would you?"

*

For all his showing of distaste at Ginger's sudden sexual desperation, Sammael found it endearing, on a level. She was only two years younger than he was, and very much an adult according to the laws of Rhocarni society, but the incredible intensity of her heat lent her a sort of naïve curiosity that made her seem younger than the was. Sam knew that was why the Priestesses would have liked her to be all but cloistered for the duration of her heat; there was no shortage of men who would take advantage of her relative innocence in the most depraved ways. Ginger would probably thoroughly enjoy that at the time, but a pregnancy resulting from such recklessness was not something Ginger was prepared for.

Even if her heat and pheromones caused a physical reaction in him, Sammael wasn't sexually attracted to her. Even if he was interested in women more broadly, he did not think he'd be able to do anything with Ginger—she was like a little sister to him, someone he'd watched grow up a couple of years younger than himself, and a friend. But her heat affected him in ways he hadn't expected, although he kept his own fantasies well and truly to himself. But he found himself relieving his own urges all the more regularly during that week, and surprised himself when it was images of her that flashed through his mind when he spilled himself.

Ginger was the only reindeer at the Temple at that time, which Sammael considered to be both a blessing and a curse; if there was a male of her species there, he fancied that Ginger would probably need to be sent away for both of their protection. Sammael had heard that at certain times in a woman's life, she could be prone to a heat cycle that was entirely beyond reason or sensibility. While he didn't think Ginger's current state met that definition, she lacked the experience to control herself even with a mildly elevated estrus.

As a resident of the Temple, and a frequenter of some of the more adult-oriented establishments in Stillwater Cove, Sammael was well-connected in the town. With the spring equinox approaching, he knew that there would be a range of festivals and celebrations across the region—none more fitting than that held by the Shrine of Kasdall, the god of wine and festivity—who also happened to be the patron deity of desire, sexual pleasure and lust. The Shrine's festivities often involved some measure of nudity and the taking of aphrodisiacs as an offering to Kasdall. There was no overt expectation of attendees to have sex with each other, but it wasn't unheard-of for the wine-drenched celebrations to result in such. It was an ancient tradition. Sammael was already listed as attending, but now he considered that he might invite Ginger. He would have to be careful; she was definitely old enough, that was certain—but she was also a very sheltered young woman and her heat-addled naivete would stand out in a place like that. Sammael considered that with him as her chaperone, she would be safe; but he needed to visit the Shrine in advance and glean some information about who might attend.

The problem was; if the Dytaean Temple found that he'd invited her to such an event, he'd be in trouble. The Priestesses wouldn't see Ginger's desperation; only Sammael putting her in a potentially 'dangerous' situation. So he needed to ensure that Ginger's attendance was covert.

The Shrine of Kasdall was near the northern outskirts of Stillwater Cove, surrounded by vineyards, and with several large stone pavilions arranged around the central Shrine. The Shrine consisted of a circular colonnade around a large statue, which depicted the god as a nude and emphatically male Caprin, bearing an amphora under his arm from which water flowed into a pool around his hooves.

In readiness for the Spring equinox, the pavilions were being hung with banners and flags, and barrels of ale, mead, wine and cider crowded around long tables which on the night of the equinox would groan under the weight of a feast.

Sammael walked up the path towards the Shrine alongside Bruno Hirschkoff, a middle-aged elk whose son, Kristian, he had known for some time. Kristian and his twin Dieter were off gallivanting across the world on some grand adventure or other, Bruno told him.

“Well, the statue leaves little doubt as to the patronage of Kasdall…" Bruno observed, eyeing the 20-fetlock-high statue's enormous, erect phallus, which was the size of Bruno's muscular arm and worn smooth from centuries of being touched.

“You should see the statues further east. In Sabarin he's usually shown as an Equid, and the statue's cock often has a bronze pipe inside it that dispenses wine."

“How can we help you, men?"

Sammael turned towards the voice, and was greeted by a young Caprin man in the open toga and loincloth of the Fraternity of Kasdall. Priests of the Shrine of Kasdall were not religious professionals; rather, they were administrators, chosen by lot by the outgoing priesthood in an annual conclave. Sammael recognised Stoyer, the son of Symas the mason, and it was clear that Bruno did, too.

“I did not know you had been elected to the priesthood, Stoyer!" Bruno said, clapping the young man on his bare shoulder.

“Aye, well—duty called. It was actually my wife Tanellye who nominated me—supposedly my performance is such that she felt the spirit of Kasdall in me," Stoyer smirked.

Sammael cringed internally at Stoyer's arrogance, but outwardly he gave a dutiful chuckle. The true scenario, Sammael knew, was that Tanellye had caught her new husband with another man, in their marital bed, while she was pregnant with their first child. He'd been blind drunk, and Tanellye had petitioned both her own parents and Stoyer's, to absorb the cost associated with him being sent away to the Shrine for a year to get him out of her house. He was a boorish lout and a nasty drunk, Sam had heard. That suited the fallow buck.

“I was hoping to speak to you about the equinox," Sammael said. “My friend Bruno here should like to attend, so I was hoping you'd accept my sponsorship and recommendation of him."

Stoyer looked the elk up and down derisively. “Mm. What is your relationship status? Children?"

“Two adopted sons, and never married—as you well know, Stoyer. I attended your Dreambinding at the Dytaean temple just last summer, remember?"

“Ahh yes, now I do. How old are your sons?"

“Twenty-two, why?"

“Both of them?"

“Twin brothers. What does that have to do with anything?"

“Ahh. Tell me of your…desires?"

Bruno narrowed his eyes. “Why?"

“We must be sure not to invite anyone to the Shrine who has a desire that would be…problematic."

“Take my word for it, Stoyer," Sammael interjected, “Bruno isn't going to be a problem."

Stoyer grunted. “Have you attended an equinox festival at the Shrine before?"

“Aye, many times, though mostly when I was younger," Bruno admitted.

“Good, so I need not remind you of how they work."

“Total nudity is not a requirement, but is acceptable; all attendees consent by being present to some degree of exposure and intimate contact, but sex on the Shrine grounds must be permitted by a Priest, whose job it is to ensure mutual consent and that all participants are on the attendance list."

“Yes, quite. Very good."

“Do I meet your standards, Stoyer?" Bruno said, raising one eyebrow.

Stoyer glared at him. “We ask a small donation for attendance, but it is not required."

Bruno produced his coinpurse and offered a small handful of silver pennies, which Stoyer accepted with a dismissive shrug.

“Good. We shall see you at dusk on the equinox, both of you."

“I have a question, Stoyer," Sammael interjected, as the Caprin began to turn away.

“Mm?"

“Have you had any reindeer or caribou men apply to attend?"

Stoyer's eyes narrowed. “Why do you ask?"

“Curiosity," Sam said airily.

“Not to my knowledge. But don't take me at my word on that."

“I would do no such thing. May I impress upon you to allow me to glance at your attendance list? There is another I should hope to invite, but only if certain others are not present."

“This is most irregular," Stoyer said testily.

Sammael produced his coinpurse. “Would a donation towards the repair of the south wall be well received? I must see the list, and I should prefer not to extort the information by other means."

“Sam…" Bruno began.

Stoyer stared long and hard at Sammael, and then seemed to slump slightly. The fallow produced six silver pennies from his purse, and Stoyer sulkily accepted them. “This way."

Bruno watched the two men move into the Shrine's administration building with some surprise. Sammael was well-known for his promiscuity and loose moral compass, but he was very well connected and well informed, and seemed to have exploitable intelligence on almost everyone of note in the town.

Sammael returned alone a few minutes later and flashed Bruno a charming, slightly predatory grin.

“What was that?" Bruno asked.

“Oh nothing. He accepted the donation, so nothing more needed to be said."

*

Ginger was very scarce around the Temple that week. Sammael, of course, knew where she would be and what she was doing, and occasionally 'interrupted' her just to be a tease.

The Priestesses were well aware of the young reindeer's condition too—such a thing was not unusual, and Ginger was far from the first or only young woman to be so afflicted. Their attitude was to let her do what she needed to do, so long as she wasn't being too much of a pest to other people, especially the men.

Early in the evening, after visiting the Shrine of Kasdall, Sammael sought Ginger out. He searched high and low across the Temple grounds, and eventually found her in the Temple's small, utilitarian bathhouse. She was, perhaps predictably, naked and 'busy' when he walked in, and he announced his presence to give the reindeer time to stop before he approached.

“J-just… a m-moment!" Ginger gasped.

Sammael folded his arms and waited.

She convulsed and splashed and trembled for a moment, and then turned to breathlessly face him, her breasts rising above the surface of the water in the raised bath she soaked in. Sammael glanced at them. Her nipples were pink and puffy, atop small mounds in her thin, ivory-pale fur. They were a very cute handful apiece, Sammael considered.

“Better?" he chuckled.

“Not really. Honestly, it hurts a little, but just I can't seem to stop for more than a few hours."

“Poor thing."

“How would you know?"

“I wouldn't know what heat feels like, and I'm thankful for that, but I'm very familiar with being so incessantly aroused to almost cause an injury to myself. I am also thankful for you being in the bathhouse for a change, so I don't have to try and ignore your scent!"

Ginger grinned. “It's… nice that it even has an effect on you."

“I am… glad you think so? I think? Anyway—I didn't come here to discuss that, as fascinating as it is."

“Oh?"

“In two days, the Shrine of Kasdall is hosting a celebration…"

“The spring equinox?"

“Yes—the Shrine is small, so it won't be a wild party like they have elsewhere, but… I think it will be something you will enjoy. There tends to be a lot of nudity there, and…"

“Sex?" Ginger asked, her ears pricked forward adorably.

Sammael laughed. “Occasionally. But don't get your hopes up too high, most of the people there know one another around town, so it tends not to turn into an orgy of sex. It's just a place where people shed their inhibitions and… live a little more freely and openly, for a while."

Ginger licked her lips.

“Now… you aren't formally invited, so…"

“I'd have to sneak in, and hide in the shadows, and not tell the Priestesses that I'm going?"

“Yes, I… you knew this was happening, and have thought about it, haven't you?"

“Perhaps…"

Sammael chuckled. “I know a few others who will be there too, and I know one in particular who is a good man, who you'd be very safe with, and who'd be somewhat less conflicted about you than I am, but who'd still have reservations about completely abandoning his inhibitions for you. I may be able to… "

Ginger leapt out of the bath and crashed wetly into Sammael, hugging the fallow tightly and peppering his face with kisses. “Thank you! Thank you thank you thank you!"

“Hey, now I'm soaked!" Sammael protested.

“Oh no, that means you'll have to take your clothes off to dry them!" Ginger teased. “Want to join me in the bath? You smell sweaty."

“Do you promise not to jump me? Other people could come in at any moment."

Ginger flattened her ears and bit her lip. “Come on Sam, it's boring in here on my own. Lots of people have come and gone while I've been here and no one has said anything."

Sammael sighed. “Didn't you just say you were getting sore? How many times have you… done… that… today?"

“I don't know, I wasn't counting…"

“You are utterly out of control! I… I cannot join you Ginger, not right now. I have to help prepare the evening meal, and…"

Ginger pouted. “It's alright, I understand. I should… probably stop anyway, I suppose."

Sammael drew the reindeer into a gentle hug, and she pressed firmly against him. Her body trembled, and he companionably patted her rump.

“Stop it Sam, you'll make me…"

He grinned. “Go on, do it once more… quickly, though."

Ginger buried her face in his chest and squealed.

Sam glanced around the bathhouse conspiratorially, then unlaced his pants. “I do love you, little dove. Even if you are an utter wench when you're horny."

*

The Spring equinox was celebrated by the Dytaeans as well, an event that focused on the fertility and rebirth of the land and the forest after the frigid winter. It was a larger gathering than the Shrine of Kasdall, and it was common for members of the different temples and shrines to attend each other's events. Sammael knew that the Priestesses would be kept busy by their own celebration, and would not particularly miss either himself or Ginger.

Sammael bathed thoroughly, and bade Ginger do the same. Then, in the dormitory, he spent an hour braiding the reindeer girl's long honey-blonde hair, into which he wove strips of purple and green silk. She sat on a stool in front of him, while he sat on the edge of her bunk.

“What do people wear to these things?" Ginger asked him, leaning back into his body.

“Not a lot, quite often. Total nudity isn't uncommon, but it's not required. And obviously, most people disrobe only after they arrive. I shall wear my tunic, but nothing beneath it. The Priests of Kasdall usually are nude. The general idea is that people are nominally clothed, but their bodies are easily accessible."

“And the women?"

“Much the same. Many wear skirts or simple dresses, and many choose to bare their breasts as their token of nudity."

Ginger thought on it for a moment. “I think I will do that. I'll wear these pants but no tunic."

“You'll wear your pants?"

She nodded. “They're comfortable. And I'm a bit nervous. I don't want to march straight in with my cunt out!"

Sammael chuckled at her crudeness. “You wouldn't be alone in doing so, but I think that's a good idea. And besides, you will not be marching straight in. Clear? You are not meant to be there at all! Is your heat starting to cool off a little?"

“Yes, I think so. It's not quite so desperate now, although… ugh, I'm getting hot just now."

“Just from discussing it?"

“Yes. Dytaea's robes, it just won't stop. It feels nice though, the way it throbs. Does yours feel that way too, when it… you know…?"

“I suspect so, although I've never given such thought to the similarities or differences between us!"

Ginger sighed deeply and squeezed her thighs together. “Who else will be there tonight? You said you know some people who you trust."

“Only one who I know to be attending. He's an elk. I'm good friends with his son…"

“His son? How old is he?"

“Old enough to be calm and confident. Young enough to still be handsome. He's a carpenter. I've been trying for years to get him to mount me, but he's not that type."

“He prefers women?"

“I suspect so, although he's very open minded. His son is very much like me."

“Hmph. I was hoping you'd know someone younger."

“Younger men are… very driven, Ginger. They would be overwhelmed by your heat and would not stop even if you wanted them to."

Ginger squirmed. “I wouldn't want them to."

“You might once it starts. Bruno, the elk, is much more attentive than most. He'd never hurt you, even unintentionally. He knows what he's doing."

Sammael tied a bow around the end of Ginger's last braid, and nudged her to stand up. Then he stood and stretched his back. Ginger was already wearing the pants she would retain for the evening, but was not wearing anything over her upper body. She bounced over to a small wooden chest beside her bunk and bent at the hips to rummage through it for significantly longer than necessary. Sammael dutifully observed her buttocks. Eventually, she straightened holding a simple cape, which she swung around her shoulders and fastened over her chest with a bronze pin.

“What do you think?" she said.

“Perfect," Sam said with a small shrug.

“How long is the tunic you'll wear?" she asked.

“Not very long," Sam grinned, “and… it's split at the front, so it actually will not hide anything. I will need to wear a loincloth to travel, but I shall remove it on arrival."

Ginger swallowed thickly. “Really? You'll have your cock out all night?"

Sammael nodded. “Mmhm. I often have it out all night, Ginger, depending on where I am!"

She sighed shakily and pressed her hand between her legs momentarily.

Sammael did not reside in the dormitories with Ginger; rather, as a Dytaean initiate, he had his own quarters nearby, still within the Temple compound. He shared the room with two others, but had significantly more space and privacy than Ginger did. She followed him like a shadow, and stared openly as he changed his clothing. Over his head, Sammael pulled on a fine woollen tunic of heather grey, edged with embroidered green felt and strips of leather, through which the lacings were woven. It was belted at the waist, but split at the front and back beneath the belt; it was obviously intended to be worn with pants. Instead, Sammael constructed a simple loincloth from a long strip of linen, which resulted in a pouch and flap that hung to mid-thigh.

“How do I look?" Sam asked, spinning around and peering over his shoulder at Ginger, with his tail flagged high and his buttocks presented.

“Like a fruit," Ginger said drily, then grinned. “I'd eat you!"

“Oh you wench!" Sammael laughed.

“I wish you'd eat me," she added, in a low mumble.

“If you were a man, I'd be very tempted," Sam said. “Now let's get moving before anyone asks where you're going…"

*