Lost Creek Hollow the milk is drying up

His lover required no further encouragement. Dominant and possessing, Lasher claimed the white wolf as the white wolf had hoped, roughly and fully. His pleasure was announced with a gruff bark that descended into a pleasured growl as his hindquarters rocked back in a bid for more. More of him, more of this passion, this love. Both knew this was a dance they would not share again for sometime. It was feverish, and needing, and wanting.

Luke crooned sweet nothings in return of the dark wolf's whispers, willing that their affectionate entangle last for hours, but feeling the pulse of his blood between his legs he knew, he was already too far gone for such delayed gratification. His senses were aswim with his lover, his body burning as his muscles tensed for that leap into ecstasy.