Fairspell Meadow saffron's curse [m]

His impulsive nature would win, if only because his mind was too fogged by his own senses to allow much thought to penetrate his conscious. He was captivated by the touch of Lasher's kiss against his jaw, earthen paws caressing his shoulders. His nose breathed the compelling scent of a companion he had not known long but had been drawn to, one that lay beneath him for his eyes to take in with abandon. There was, perhaps, a degree of subconscious knowledge at work as well. He knew that this male had been with another of his gender, and on some level may have sensed that he was receptive, maybe even hopeful, of Luke's touch.  

Lasher urged him, and that was enough. He surrendered, for in the end the pale wolf was one who lived in the moment and was consumed by it. He sighed another deep breath, and as it escaped so did any remnants of tension and tentativeness. Luke's tail, which had hung still, swayed again, and the straight line of his mouth bent into a smile. He shifted and laid his supple body across Lasher's own, supported in part on his hip and elbow and pressed into his companion's chest. He nuzzled the earthen male's throat once more, and his teeth planted soft nips. A level of playfulness had returned to him, but it was more tender than before.