Slowly but surely working on my Verinwulf fic! Have a snippet!
He doesn’t see Wulf for another month after that. The trees in Rexxentrum are largely bare of their leaves by that point and those that cling to their boughs have faded to shades of brown instead of the vibrant hues of flame Verin wishes he had come in time to see. The air is truly cold, the nipping bites of the late summer now a pleasant memory.
Pleasant memories are what Verin needs most now, what he hopes will best untangle the knot of rotting emotion that’s wrapped itself around his heart. Strong tattooed arms, the deep rumble of a Zemnian accent, the smell of incense—
Verin is so lost in thought that he nearly collides with Wulf as he leaves his house.
“Ach, watch where you are—” he puts a hand on Verin’s shoulder to move him backwards and then catches sight of his familiarly disguised face. “Verin.”
“Hey.” he breathes, leaning up to kiss him almost thoughtlessly.
Wulf lets him briefly, hand cradling his jaw one moment and pulling him off the next. “What are you doing here?” he asks, a furrow forming between his handsome brows.
There’s no bite to his words, only confusion and curiosity, but they still dig their teeth into the soft flesh of Verin's heart, sharp as his own fangs.
“I wanted to see you,” he says, falling back on the familiar in his heartache. “Isn’t that enough?”
