Fairspell Meadow saffron's curse [m]

muahaha

Lasher's foot was a prisoner in Luke's softly gnawing mouth for a short time before it was tugged free and Lasher captured his ear in return. Luke leaned back with the gentle pull, wriggling such that in that fleeting moment when his companion paused, he was able to flick his ear free. He was hardly aware of that pause, for he was consumed in the game, and only knew that he had reclaimed what belonged to him, that which was perked atop his head.

The blue-nosed wolf was powerfully affectionate and drawn to physical closeness. His desire for these things had not been helped on his lonesome travel, where a thirst for touch had mostly gone unquenched for over a year. Soon his ears lay back upon his skull as, lost in the enveloping scent and warmth of another, he caved to his need and shifted slightly to rub his muzzle against earthern male's throat. His playful growl ebbed into a soft rumble, akin to a purr.

The moment was brief, and Luke suddenly gathered his feet beneath him and stood, a pale paw on either side of Lasher's dark shoulders as he looked down upon his companion. His warm gaze took on a hint of burning, but he himself was frozen, tensed as though startled by his own loss of control.