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

He was feeling somewhat inadequate; it was not something the beast was used to feeling, but being unable to express himself properly to the one he loved more than anything was piercing through his normally unwavering confidence; it was just as confusing as the actual feelings he was struggling so much to explain. His lover replied then, and his words instantly erased the negative feelings from his mind. Midar tightened around him again, showing with affection what he wished he could say in words. Mostly that he was incredibly grateful for his mate's unquestioning understanding. He tightened further at Alarian's next words, relieved to know that he didn't need to worry about losing the only thing keeping him whole. He hadn't noticed the tears yet, distracted by the moment and the feel of his lover against him as they embraced. But his next words were cut off, and the beast heard sounds that could only mean his mate was crying. He slowly uncurled himself from around the scarred male, seeking out any part of his face, but it was hidden from his view underneath his own blue-black fur, so Midar settled for licking his lover's ear as a soft whine left his throat. Don't cry, he quietly pleaded. He knew they weren't tears of sadness but for some reason, he still couldn't bear the thought of his mate crying.