Fairspell Meadow saffron's curse [m]

He relished in Lasher's touch, leaning in to his kisses on his face and tilting his head as Lasher's tongue caressed his ear. He paused, his eyes closed against the soothing strokes as if having his eyes open would detract from his ability to savor it. He was a wolf that thrived on this contact, and his earthen companion was entrancing him with every press of his lips and teeth. For all his practice in nonchalance, in remaining calm and collected, Luke drew now only shallow breaths that quivered with passionate anticipation.

He pulled back as Lasher lavished attention upon his throat, his head tilting back to allow his companion complete and trusting access to him. But he could not leave his muzzle in the air for so long, for the blue-nosed wolf desired not only to be touched but to do the touching, and so his head bent once more. His muzzle brushed between his companion's ears, rubbed against each of them, before his teeth trailed along one's edge.

"You," he murmured between tender nibbles, his warm breath bathing the ear he teased, "are beautiful." He chuffed, a single note of a chuckle. His smile was broad as he moved his tempting teeth to Lasher's jaw.