Moonspear [m] doppelgangland

She sought closer to him—nose grazing against him and yellow eyes searching—an embrace he encouraged with a pull of arms, nestling her to him, his own muzzle placing kisses along her nape until she turned.

“Yes,” he answered, though he knew it was not such as simple as such. “When the right moment arises,” he murmured against her ear, teeth grazing gently. “The right woman,” he teased, though a smirk pressing to his lips. “If I were to be so fortunate for her to even have me.”

She had asked him the question of a wife before—their first encounter. He had been less committed to responding in turn then—perhaps now, she wished for a firmer response. His frosted gaze studied her, finding himself fond of the way she fit within his arms and the warmth that radiated from her.