#'junge

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The weight of the gaze is familiar. One he does not shy from, in fact, the wolf gathers it close. Kronus bites soft lips and kisses with bruising ferocity as if the pup had strayed overlong from his side. In truth it was likely agitation that he smelled death on Aristaios and did not know why. There was sadness on the pup's breath as he lingered close. It was a taste that he had long since licked clean from the heat of that mouth. Now it settled there once more.

Fingers smooth through dark hair.

"Wer hat Sie zu verletzen, Junge?"

[verlorxein-blog]

   "Du siehst müde, Junge."

   Call it a feeling the wolf had, that his pup needed a strong shoulder and a hand holding him close with silent comfort. Either way, he approaches without hesitation and draws the younger wolf in towards himself. It is a rarity, however, for those he has sired such is common place. A brush of lips and a soft kiss is pressed to the pup's throat with a low growling hum.

   "Come. Stay at my side tonight."

[verlorxein-blog]

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   "You realize you're staring?"

   Agitation is brief in his voice as he sets aside the knife and pauses in butchering the deer. Wiping bloodied hands off with the rag at his side, the wolf raises his head and regards the intruder. Here he had assumed he had been alone. Yet he only pauses a moment before tossing the rag aside and delving his hands into the belly of the stag, snapping bone and allowing blood and entrails to wetly slap to the ground as he cleaned out the carcass.

   "Make this quick, I'm busy."