Bearclaw Valley the wake [m]

Ulysses, drunk on the others gaze, cannot seem to take his eyes off the other; he thrives off his reaction. He’s astonished the other allows him such passage into his personal space. 

The larger wolf gazes down to the black face framed by snow, a different type of hunger tickling the depth of his stomach. He holds his breath with anticipation when the other breathes out his reply. A reply to the moon eyed wolf’s satisfaction, a devious grin worms it’s way into his maw. It makes him dizzy with delight with the possibility of being accepted by him. 

He brings his head down and takes a step closer, his paw crunching the snow beneath in their stark silence. Staring deviously into the single eye the coy bears. He reaches down to playfully bite the others left ear, then to whisper his own breathy but teasing, “Yes?” His breath ghosting onto the shell of the others ear.

Even though there is excitement spiking electricity throughout his body, he’s struck with the quick thought of the wolf Merrick had spoken so fond of earlier. [His] shadow. The she-wolf following them. Uly wonders briefly about her. Then guilt, and perhaps jealously, also join that feeing sparking electricity throughout him. 

He recedes slowly, the playful aura and devious smile meekly fading. “What about your shadow?” He asks, only as high as a whisper.