Bearclaw Valley the wake [m]

ulysses moved to caress merrick's face with his own tongue. the boy's breath came harder; he was awash with the low distant thrum of his flesh. different from astara; he felt less in control here, completely at the mercy of this strongman, should he move to hurt his young leader.
but he did not. dizzied by the eye contact, which simultaneously gnawed at his dominant self, and quelled his submissions, merrick switched his plume, moving in to inhale the scent of ulysses' pelt. "yes," he whispered there, surrendering to the deep flare of intrigue and his own baleful hungers.