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Description
Adam
Adam wasn’t just any woodchucker, he was the kind of towering, thick-furred bull moose that made the forest pause when he walked through it. Towering antlers, a rugged grin beneath his stubbled jaw, and arms like knotted cedar trunks. He spent his days shirtless in the cool Canadian wilds, slinging axes, hauling logs, and leaving his scent in the pine-sweet air. Locals whispered about the deep, sensual bass of his laugh and the glint of mischief in his chestnut eyes.
Most nights, Adam retired to his log cabin, the fire crackling, sweat drying slow on his chest. But sometimes, when the moon hung low and the loons cried out, he'd stroll into the village tavern, his flannel open, hooves thudding on the wood floor, drawing every gaze. And when he chose someone to join him under the stars, they didn’t forget what it felt like to be pressed against that massive, warm chest while he whispered in a voice like thunder softened by moss.
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