Northstar Vale shotguns and barbed wire fences

Bruges had to tell himself to stay on guard. The swift ferocity with which she'd nipped at his flank- a gentle and teasing feeling but unexpected nonetheless- had left him suspecting that she was a wolf in sheep's clothing, rather than a simple, helpless fawn. But there she was, meek as a housecat, laying there and imploring him to come closer with her coquettish, mischevious smile. Thus he concluded only one thing- he would have to keep his guard up, but he could possibly avoid an altercation altogether- if he could completely and utterly seduce her, and quell that flickering passion he sensed she held within her. As shallow as Bruges was, he could be a decent judge of character from time to time. 

Thus, he tested the waters by moving toward her shoulders, and uttering a soft murmur of a growl; not a possessive sound, but a pleading one, as he hovered his chin over the nape of her neck, allowing his warm breath to tease the hairs there. While he was aware he was compromising his position by being so close to her face, he was banking on his own ability to charm the girl into being tamed. While normally he would whisper a compliment to his counterpart at this point, he felt it more honest to say nothing, and rely simply on the depth and speed of his breaths to convey his message. He touched the tip of his muzzle to her right ear, tracing down from its slightly rounded tip, along the edge where a small, triangle shaped nick from some past injury marred its shape, down to the feather-soft fur at the base, toward the crook of her jaw, where he placed a kiss. He growled once more, more wanting and needing than before, as he paused for a moment; he would have to be hyper-attentive if he wanted to read her correctly.