Fairspell Meadow saffron's curse [m]

"I could say the same about yourself," Luke replied, canting his head to expose more of his throat as Lasher preened. "I am the moth to your flame." He smiled, his tail softly thumping the ground. His lover withdrew and sat beside him. In quiet reverie Luke allowed his silver eyes to alight on Lasher's gentle face, idly reflecting.  

Their tryst had been an unexpected, spontaneous thing. This was only the second time he had been in the earthen male's company, but it felt as though they had a soulful connection. Peregrine was hot, powerfully attractive but in a much different way; Luke was a lamb entranced by the lion and the embodiment of the prepossessing Alpha male. Lasher was something else entirely, but what exactly the blue-nosed wolf could not put a paw on. It hardly mattered; he was a wolf that lived in the moment and he was thoroughly savoring this one.

"You were my first," Luke murmured and twitched an ear. "Well, first man," he clarified.