Sunbeam Lair and he, of his high comrade sorrow dreaming

He can hear the frantic drum of his heart, can feel it pulsing through his ears as the other male steps closer. He sucks in a sharp breath at the contact, trembling slightly but making no move to pull away. This strange, intoxicating combination of emotions is so, so familiar —
And suddenly the man is no longer midnight-cloaked but painted in rich earthen hues, and he no longer feels the gentle touch at his throat; instead he feels the harsh ache of forelegs gripping him too tightly, the breathlessness of unexpected weight atop him. Please, He murmurs, echoing the memory rushing to fill him like icy floodwater, and he doesn't truly know what he's asking for. Please touch me, he thinks; please get away from me.