The Heartwood lustmord and wargasm

"You're a patient one," Luke remarked quietly, casting his dark companion a soft smile before settling into silence with him, the pair's gaze upon the spiritless monarch. Although he could not place it and Lasher had said nothing indicative, the blue-nosed wolf could sense a sort of unrest, a sadness that did not seem entirely for the death of the kingly elk. He wondered at this but did not ask. As a physical, affectionate creature, he wanted to lean in to the other wolf, just to be close, but he had learned the hard way to be more restrained around other males and thus held back.

He stared at the antlers, wishing that he could drag them off, but alas they were heavy and he had no den or home to drag them off to. After a while Luke could sit in silence no more. "Do you like antlers, Lasher?" he asked, looking warmly at the other male, his tail gently beating the ground.