Deepwood Weald If you're gonna be the death of me, that's how I want to go

A few huffs of low, quiet laughter were his response to Alarian's answer, and he relaxed a little against the other man as he finally gave in to being pinned to the ground. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen his lover grin like that, and it caused a tightening in his stomach. Midar raised an eyebrow at the comment on his weight. He would have known his mate was teasing even if he hadn't caught the appraisal in his gaze as he took in the beast on top of him. Still, he couldn't resist. I haven't heard any complaints before now, he replied, and impish smile curving his lips. And...if you buried me, then I wouldn't be able to do this, he added as he nipped the junction of his jaw and neck. Or this, Midar said again, this time moving down to bite the hollow of his lover's neck. Or this, he murmured once more, delivering another bite to the top of his chest. The beast then nipped a little lower on his chest before rubbing his muzzle in the fur there to stir up his favorite scent, his covetous gaze lifting to seek out Alarian's two-toned eyes.