Handbook of Erotic Fantasy: Coitus Interruptus Ursus (Patreon)

There were ice smells upon the wind. They were winter sharp and winter cruel, and they cut like knives across the skin of the snow. Then his hand moved just so.

“Ah!”

The world moved. The wind grew soft as springtime. All around them the snow melted, and so did she. The ground was dark and warm now where she dug her heels, and in the furrows they left wildflowers grew. She raked her fingers through his hair, dug her nails into the soft hollows behind his ears, and that is when he arched his back.

“Ahhhh!”

The world moved again. Heat rose in the meadow. It fanned low between them, sparking and catching in the undergrowth until the grass that was their bed caught light. A fire wind blew. She hungered for the oxygen he offered. And from that first smolder it spread outwards, tree trunks catching one to the next, thick boles kindling to torches. They burned together then, consumed in their own conflagration.

“AHHHHHH!”

For a final time, the world moved. Gently now. They fell away from one another, drifting down upon a cooling wind. The world around them made ready for rest, whispering sweetly in its own soft language. Every golden leaf on every bough was a promise of distant seasons. Every shiver among the treetops passed too along her spine. The forest felt him lying close, and it wrapped him in a fall of its satisfaction.

“Hey, yo! When the shit are we supposed to hibernate?”

They snapped out of their extended metaphor. A half-burned forest and a confusion of seasons spiraled out from their bed of flowers. Indignant ursine muzzles glowered down at them. And cozy afterglow or no, Druid and Arcane Archer found that 1d3 random bears counter and dispel cuddle time.