Redhawk Caldera I'm yours, yours, yours for every season

The last one was every bit as intense as the first. In fact, Peregrine felt himself pee a little as the fit finally ceased. He frowned in disgust, then sniffled so noisily that he didn't hear the telltale footfalls coming his way. When Fox spoke, he whirled, a rope of snot swinging with him. When he stopped, it kept going, sailing off to who knows where. Peregrine blinked after it, then faced his mate again. Well, he turned his face slightly to the left so he could see her with his good eye.

"Now that you're here," he purled romantically in reply, reaching out to nibble at her cheek and leaving a little swath of slime sticking to her fur. "Oogh, sorry," he said, quickly licking it away. It was pretty gross, though he'd tasted worse. "I'm an old man," Peregrine mused, referring indirectly to his inability to kick the cold's ass as quickly as a younger wolf (like her) might, as well as to the fact that he'd just wee'd himself.