Swiftcurrent Creek breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out

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His muzzle smoothed over her—burying to the thick nape of her fur, nipping and tasting her as he trailed along. Her words drew a smile to his lips, which were pressed against her collarbone. “Then don’t,” he suggested gruffly, moving forward, moving to devour her.

She requested privacy, and he pulled her up, barking a laugh as he herded her somewhere more quiet for them to continue their rather intimate greeting.

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Afterward, he would pull her to him, raining kisses further upon her, his breath ragged—yeah, he was aging. He could feel it in the exertion.