Kintla Flatlands [m] so please don't take me for no fool

He shivers—so used to the consuming heat that constantly fuels him, a blessing and curse all in one. Contact other than brawls is a thing Kratos disliked from the beginning for how overheated he got, yet here it is just perfect. Zephyr is a welcome cold as heat pools.
He steals his breath away, until Zephyr’s name, too, is uttered by his lips and they fall together into a heap. This is what happiness feels like. Bliss beyond anything he’s ever experienced. A grin grows broad, a snort and a chuckle building from his chest, until he looks upon his mate and it is silenced.
Concern instead overcomes, and he reaches towards him too gently—as if Zephyr is fragile—yet the touch of his muzzle across his mate’s neck is firm.