Tavick groans lowly, running a hand up your side as he pulls you closer. Your bed is warm, early rays of sunhine flitting through the curtains as he holds you close, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck. He's a handsome man; broad in all the right ways, the soft beginnings of a beard starting to grow in, his tusks short and symmetrical. His skin is a soft green, his dark hair unruly but framing his face nicely.

He's a bartender in a tavern you both work at, a rough little place with all sorts of patrons. He himself comes from a comfortable family, his mother a blacksmith and his father a doctor, but he seems content working at the tavern despite it's shortcomings.

"You awake, babe?" He whispers, kissing your jaw gently, his tusks brushing against your skin. His warm palm runs over your stomach, gentle and soft, always careful even when he's half asleep.