Grace felt warm and protected. Well, stuffed like a turkey and out of breath but being warm and protected outweighed being a little uncomfortable. Her name on his lips had her looking up at him, her face contorting as the strange, still unfamiliar pleasure bloomed in her belly. Grace opened her mouth again but instead of words a sharp gasp and a moan left.
At least it felt nice. At least he was nice. Grace moved more, cheeks flushed, glancing at the entrance of the tent while she rocked against her savior. Half waiting for someone to rush in to talk to him about something overly important that just couldn't wait. Grace pressed her cheek to his chest, her fingers curling around his biceps while she tried not to mewl or shout. Shivers racked her form and she bit down hard on her lip, eyes closed. "I..." She breathed low, hiding her face, "What if..." her fingers dug into Motark's arms, nails leaving biting crescents, a sharp intake of breath cut off her words and her head tipped back, "What if...?"