Firefly Glen [m] Chaleurs

lorcan lets out a low, throaty growl in answer, stepping into her space without hesitation. experience comes with age, he breathes. when she meets his gaze, her tongue darting to his muzzle, he takes that as all the permission he needs.

her soft growl is cut short as he bowls her over, pinning her to the cold earth beneath them. his breath warms the air between their faces, golden eye flicking across her features. there’s a surge of possession in his posture—victory, challenge, and something that sparks hot at the edges.

you said you wanted quick, he rumbles, voice low, just shy of a snarl.

fade now?