Sun Mote Copse A runaway once more

   Embry released a sigh of pleasure as she neared him, her body softening along his own. Her scent drifted rosily throughout his senses, washing the predominant anxiety and emberrassment from his face. In place, his gaze held a much deeper resolve, passion and desire; something he had never experienced save for this precise moment. She felt so vulnerable beside him, yet strong all the same. Like something of a work of art. 

     He felt his muscles tense, as though by shifting at all he would jeopardize the intimate feelings sifting within him. His heart beat strangely at a calmer, steady rate; smooth and rythmic within his chest. He lowered his head, attempting to hide the witty grin he couldn't help but brandish as she succumbed to laughter. "Sto... Stop!...S-stop!.. He gasped, words slipping interminably between chuckles. He swatted her ear playfully. I... I said... It... It wasn't that... That funny! But his laughter only grew harder, his breathing wheezy and strained.

     By the time his fit subsided, the sun had dipped well below it's former position. Dark hues of gold and maroon washed across the two wolves, illuminating the clearing with balmy blue and purple shadows. Feyre lay on her back beside him, elegant and inevitably serene. He still felt the tension within his stomach, where the muscles seemed to remain knotted. He padded, with a subtle hint of a roguish tramp, to lay beside her. 
  
     In the darkening embers of dusk, her form was as that of a goddess in his eyes. He couldn't help but stand and adjust himself, so that he stood looking down at her with a light smile. His tail swayed gently, brushing against her own. She trusted him. "I love you." He murmured, his voice low and tender. He searched her gaze. Was this the right time? Would he finally profess himself without the hindrance of mere words alone?