Lion Head Mesa [m]dawn

The mazoi lifted his chin and forced Sayf to meet his gaze. The fellahin was completely at his mercy; his eyes were glued to the giant's. He wanted Sayf as himself and not because he had certain rights to the servants. His entire body heated at the reassurance. 

Sakai moved to brush his muscled body against his own. He swayed a little under the movement, unable to keep his balance against the much larger wolf. It also didn't help that his legs felt a little like jelly. Sayf felt the giant's nose against his scruff and shivered against the intake of breath as the mazoi indulged in his scent. His breathing quickened and he swallowed against his dry throat. The handsome wolf spoke against his fur, the heat of his breath against the fellahin's suddenly very sensitive skin making him shiver again. The coyote drew in a sharp, shuttering breath when Sakai all but demanded to know how Sayf felt about him. Mine, he wanted to say. He barely kept the word from falling from his mouth. But how could he ask that of him when he could not give him the same in return, at least not completely—not in the way the fellahin wanted to request of him. It wasn't fair. But the warrior was waiting for his answer, and Sayf could feel the warmth radiating from his towering form at his side. It would be so easy for the mazoi to take him. Just one lift of his strong arm and Sayf would be delightfully helpless beneath him. 

His chest moved with his rabid breathing, and the fellahin curled his face around to nuzzle whatever part of the giant he could reach first. Whatever you want to be, he finally got out.