#zaflin

It had been a mistake, really, on Zafire's part, to tell Tamlin about his body’s capability to carry his young.

Now, the blond couldn’t help but stare at the wolf’s flat stomach from time to time, and picture it full and heavy. Or at Zafire’s neck, with his shirt’s neckline much more relaxed and open than before, showing the mating bite with pride. Zafire wagged his tail, lazily but firmly, humming contentedly while cutting meat and vegetables for the stew.

His tail.

The same tail that, once pulled, had the wolf making the sweetest and neediest sounds Tamlin had ever heard. Right below the narrow hips that fit so well between Tamlin’s hands.

It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? To get behind the wolf and just… pull his pants down. Zafire would surely gasp in surprise and blush, then smirk like the tease he was. And, with Tamlin being taller and stronger, he could easily bend the wolf over and mate. The kitchen of the newly constructed house was of the few remaining places they hadn’t used yet, and Tamlin wanted his new house to smell like his love in all places.

Zafire stopped cutting the vegetables, his furry ears flicking back and forth as if assessing the area and chuckled. “I can almost hear you thinking, Pretty Flower.” He said, and Tamlin blinked a few times, cheeks turning pink at being caught. “But I’d rather hear you out loud, love.”

“Me?” The High Lord of Spring said, thinking quickly. “I was just thinking about breedi— I mean, brimmi— I mean… the breeze…” he finished lamely, waving his hand around.

“The breeze,” Zafire repeated flatly, an eyebrow raised with mirth as he placed the meat and vegetables in the pot to cook. “The breeze of spring that carries the pollen and fertilizes the land?”

“Yes?” Tamlin winced, thankful Lucien wasn’t around, or else he would never live it down. “It’s just that—“