A cut above the rest

The massive black and red brute stalked alongside his mate while she led the way to the borders of the pack she had become fascinated with. Whatever had occurred or whoever she had met here had left such a lasting impression on the purple galactic fae that most of their conversations about the future revolved around this pack's involvement in some way, shape, or form. Alastor didn't know what was so special about them—there was certainly nothing outstanding about the scents he detected as the two came to rest just outside the invisible perimeter—but they had taken Manea's interest by storm. He glanced around at the odd white, skeletal-like trees surrounding them when Manea nipped at his cheek, tearing his focus away from the foliage and back to his ravishing mate.

Manea teased him with a flick of her silken tail across his thigh, then reminded him to behave himself. At her words, Alastor's mouth dropped open in an overly dramatic gasp, black eyes wide with offense. He glanced around, then raised a paw to his chest as if silently asking "Me?!". "Darling, behave myself?! Have you such little faith in me? Why, I never...!" he remarked with a big, toothy grin. Although as his eyes roamed down her body, taking in the subtle womanly curves and dips of her form accented by the subtle swelling around her belly where their children grew, he knew she had a fair concern. He certainly hadn't behaved when he'd help make the little treasures growing inside her womb presently—not that anyone would ever know what their escapades had involved. Still, she should trust him more than to do something rash or embarrass her in front of anyone.

While Manea called for their hosts, Alastor sat down beside his mate, giving her cheek and neck the occasional little nuzzle or nibble or lick. He didn't mind being outwardly affectionate with his wife; after all, they had gotten married for their unending love! The demon wolf waited, waited to see who would arrive and why they had fascinated his darling so.


"Alastor"