I started off with it intending to be a more comedic piece, but I'm horrible at comedy and it wound up evolving into something a little more meaningful. Thank you all for putting up with my dumb stories 
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That smolder was in his eyes.
Whitnee felt her breath hitch, her fur stand on end. Her knees buckled slightly and her eyes grew wide as her lover’s gaze penetrated her heart, her soul, her very being.
His movements were effortlessly graceful as he closed the space between them, never once breaking his intent stare. She felt weak, powerless. She couldn’t rip her eyes away from his; those perfect, glowing green orbs were just too much for her to take.
He was inches away from her now, their chests so close that they brushed one another as they fell up and down with breath. Whitnee could just feel her power being siphoned away by her love’s gaze, and she was helpless to stop it.
That was, until a smirk crossed Constantyne’s lips, breaking his concentration. He uttered a Thalassian obscenity under his breath as the familiar green vines snaked around his legs, cementing him to the spot.
“Quit trying to tame me, you stupid elf!” Whitnee yelped, the powers of nature dancing along her claw tips with a faint, green glow. She’d leapt backwards a few feet, replacing the distance between herself and her mischievous elven lover. “How about I throw a collar and leash on you next time?”
“Hmm,” Constantyne pondered, his smirk broadening into a full-fledged smile. “Sounds kinky, love. I didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.”
“Constantyne Dawntreader!” Whitnee shrieked. Had it not been for her fur, Constantyne was very sure she would have been blushing.
“You know I’m kidding,” he said, stretching his legs as the vines recoiled, drying up and crumpling onto the floor. He smirked again. The remnants left behind vaguely reminded him of the Noblegarden grass his mother had once stashed chocolate eggs into.
Whitnee crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes narrowed and her jaw tense. “I already feel enough like a beast without your help,” she murmured, and with that made an ill-fated attempt to turn away.
She should have known better.
“Whitnee…” Constantyne whispered. The smile that had lit up his face just moments before was now twisted into a frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I was just playing with you.”
A frustrated sigh escaped her lips as she kept her gaze downwards, focused on the wooden panels of the floor. Those eyes were a weakness that she wouldn’t afford. “I know you were,” she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, I just… I wish I wasn’t this… this thing.”
“If you weren’t this ‘thing,’ as you call it, you wouldn’t even be alive right now,” Constantyne said quietly, bringing a hand up to her face. His gently fingered a few of the black tendrils that framed her cheeks, carefully pushing them back behind her long ears. “We wouldn’t be here right now. And I wouldn’t be happy right now, because I wouldn’t have you.”
“But wouldn’t you rather have this?” Whitnee asked.
The moment those words left her lips, her body began to morph. Her muzzle shortened, her ears rescinded, her razor-sharp claws curved to form normal fingernails. The arm Constantyne grasped wasn’t furry now, but soft and silky. Like the woman she used to be. She looked up at him now, her almond-shaped eyes a deep, emerald green that created a striking contrast with her pitch black hair. They were one of her finest features, the other Gilneans used to say.
Whitnee raised onto her tiptoes, pressing her silken lips against his. She would make him see; that she was sure of. After all, what man could prefer a half-human monster to this great beauty?
Hers, apparently.
Constantyne returned her kiss, but only for a moment. His fingers curled around her shoulders, gently pushing her down until she was flat on her feet again. Whitnee stared up at him with that familiar fire in her eyes, her lips pursed into a half-frown.
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met, Whitnee, whatever form you are in,” he said softly, tracing her jaw line with a single finger. “But I much prefer the fur.”
“You’re lying,” Whitnee spat back. “How could you prefer that to this? How could you, the most gorgeous man of the most gorgeous race on all of Azeroth, prefer a beast to a beauty?”
“Because I love you,” Constantyne said, bending his head to plant a kiss on top of hers. “I love everything about you. You’re no beast to me, Whitnee, no matter what shape you take. You could transform into an ogre, for all I care. I’d still love you all the same.”
Whitnee swallowed hard, tears pushing at the rims of her eyes. What good had she ever done to deserve someone so perfect? “I know you want to have children,” she whispered, her voice trembling from the cries that wished so desperately to rip out from her throat. “Don’t you worry they will come out looking like me?”
“I dream of having a child that would come out looking like you,” Constantyne said, his arms enveloping her body, drawing her to his chest. “And even if the poor things decided to look like me instead, they would still be perfect because they would be ours.”
He’d done it now.
The focus it took for Whitnee to retain her human form was broken as the tears ran down her cheeks. Her body twisted and turned, morphing from woman to wolf. Velvety ears sprung up from her scalp and claws sprouted from her finger and toenails, clicking slightly against the flooring. She pressed her muzzle against her love’s chest and whined slightly.
“There,” Constantyne whispered, leaning back to run a thumb over her furred cheek. “Perfect.”
you don't have to be that modest 
