Bearclaw Valley [m] burning skies

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his ears twitch slightly, catching the silent invitation, and a low chuff rumbles in his chest, visible in the cold air as it escapes his lips. she has a way of catching him off guard, this sharp, fiery woman.

tvar presses his forehead against her side and nudges her over with just enough force that it's not rough, but firm enough to show his intent. when she is beneath him, he is lumbering in the way positions himself over her. the cold of his nose presses into the thick fur of her chest, his breath warm as he inhales deeply, taking in the scent of her heat that still lingers, still calls to him like a siren's song.

the fire in his veins ignites again, stronger this time, fueled by the memory of their first union and the promise of what could come from it. he wants her again. he wants to make sure her belly swells with his pups come spring. she will be his, even if only for this season, and he will see to it that no other male comes near her.

his tongue grazes the fur at her neck, savoring her. again, he murmurs with a low, teasing voice—she can't hear it, but perhaps she can see or feel it, with the look in his eyes and the way his breath presses to her.