Wild Berry Meadow yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red,

Euros goes rigid for a moment under his touch, and Zephyr prepares to withdraw — but it only lasts a moment. Then the boy melts into him, ruddy silken warmth draped over his shoulders, and the wraith relaxes too. He sighs softly, feeling a familiar spark of heat in his belly, a ruby streak of lightning at the core of him. The wrongness of it doesn't register in this moment, especially when Euros starts to speak, drawing his muzzle further over his back. He shivers, barely registering the words.
The snarl, however — that startles him. It doesn't show, of course. The wraith remains as stoic as ever through the outburst, only silently shocked by it; outwardly, the moment passes. He half wonders if he'd imagined it. Or perhaps it'd been one of the Daedra — one he hasn't heard yet. Regardless, he responds as if it hadn't happened. I — it's okay. I'm over it. There are... things you don't know about. Things that happened recently, Things he doesn't want to talk about, not with the heat coiling and writhing within him. We can talk about it at home later. And with that, he presses closer, preening a little now, selfishly wanting nothing but this embrace. Nothing else really matters — it never does, in moments like this.