The wolf's fur carries Percy's own scent, but also fresh air and pine and now smoke from the fire. But beneath it all, especially to a sensitive omega's nose, he is still Percival de Rolo. He is grateful now that he doesn't lose his mind every time he changes.

After Essek has had a chance to get a good look, Percy lowers himself more, letting his paws hang over the edge of the blanket-table and his forelegs rest on either side of Essek. He nuzzles his mate's hair, breathing him in.

I could keep you just like this for an hour, he murmurs. I wouldn't even have to pull out between knotting you.

With something to lean on, Percy doesn't anticipate that being difficult. It's Essek's endurance that will determine how long they stay in one position. At least on his back, he doesn't have to hold his own weight at all, slight as it is.