The Heartwood lustmord and wargasm

Luke grinned broadly at the other male's joke, however serious the topic could be. Antlers, when attached to defensive hoofed mammals, were not to be trifled with. Luke himself had been close to but ultimately spared from a goring, it came with the territory of hunting these armed creatures. It was deceptive how rounded the points of antlers were, for they were remarkably capable of piercing flesh, and such wounds were often fatal. But Luke held a profound fondness for them, almost an obsession, which although he appreciated them as decoration, had nothing to do with their visual appeal or use as a weapon.

"I love antlers," he shared with quiet enthusiasm as he, following with his companion, stepped toward the elk. While Lasher went for the flank, the blue-nosed wolf brought his muzzle to rub along the regal tines. "There is nothing better to chew on," he commented as his teeth lightly clicked the antler. Chewing was pleasurable, instinctively so. "They don't splinter, and they are neither too hard nor too soft." They were also nutritionally beneficial, which he knew on some primitive level but he could not explain specifically that antlers were full of healthy minerals - that was beyond his understanding.

Luke chuckled softly at himself, knowing he was a bit passionate about them, and glanced to the darker male, smiling. Lasher had yet to take a bite and settle into eating, so he still waited.