Stavanger Bay give in to me

Well and truly, Szymon feared Doe’s ire. Eyeing the irritated flicker of her tail, not unlike the blue-grey and tan creature by the shoals, he slicked his tattered ears back against his head and stretched an entreating paw toward her. He growled pleasurably as she burrowed into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and before he could think his actions through, he reached for her with both forelegs to cushion her drop into the sand and to pull her more tightly to him. The growl billowing from his throat deepened further, humming so ardently he was sure she could feel it in the marrow of her bones. Parting his jaws — jaws that had readied themselves for battle only moments ago — he gave her the utmost delicacy of his touch, preening her shoulder with its dusky red guard hairs, silver fur, and downy undercoat, tracing his teeth through her fur and following it with wide sweeps of his tongue.

His time away — not only from Doe, but from the territory itself — had given him no further understanding of how to treat the situation. He knew only that she belonged with him — belonged to him? no, no, that was impossible — and he belonged with her. Her command that he not leave again — however close the frailty of her timbre brought it to a plea — was reinforcement of what he already felt. He craned his neck to preen the arch of hers, and very quietly, drawing strength from her nearness, “Okay,” he murmured acquiescence. The moment of fluent clarity surprised him, but he didn’t dare call attention to it lest his body remember its customary tension and lock the words down in his stomach to curdle like spoiled milk.

As Doe huffed out a sigh, drawing away to closely regard Szymon’s face, he remembered the things he had gathered together — furrowing his brow as he glanced toward the horizon, he decided that lingering exactly where he was seemed infinitely preferable for the moment. He chuckled at her fussing, closing his eyes as his tail thumped the ground in obvious contentment.