Their sounds delight her; noises made when they are lost in one another, unbidden gasps and hisses, sighs, groans, and the full, open-throated laughter that flows after they have collapsed against each-other, unhinged and sated, slightly sheepish in the scope of their passion. She savors his melodic rasp, humming and rich, his rhythmic grunts, and the strangled cries that seep from the back of his throat. The timbre of his voice is like the grain of wood, textured and rippled beneath its oiled sheen. And when he is within her, it drops to a leonine purr or lifts like a boy's, earnest and hopeful.
Nothing tells of the ancient wildness that rises and swells between them better than the rough edged nonsense words that fill the air. There is meaning carved deep in the breaths there, growled and whispered into an infinite abyss, and nothing she won't do to evoke it.