Lost Creek Hollow the milk is drying up

He felt Lasher's embrace tighten, and clenched his teeth against a mounting pressure he could not contain. He could no longer withstand the pleasure delivered by such sensuous and experienced technique, and he broke in unison with the dark man, crying out his release, not in words but in the moaning croon from deep within his throat. He, too, stood on quavering limbs, his head hanging heavily, spent and sated as he was.

Lasher pulled away, descending to the ground beneath them, a kiss upon Luke's shoulder met with a fond smile before the white wolf sank to press himself to his lover's side. He nuzzled gently behind an ear. With the mind-consuming joy of their union ebbing, gloom attempted to creep into his breast, but he forbade it entrance. Perhaps this would be the last time for some while, but even though the heaviest snows had not yet fallen, the chilliest mornings not yet dawned, his mind turned to spring.