Stavanger Bay give in to me

The little Witch Doctor wriggled in Szymon’s grasp, and just for a moment, the selfishness that was beginning to rear its emerald-eyed head surged to the forefront. His golden eyes, which had gone heavy-lidded with contentment, widened in alarm as a protesting growl rumbled in his throat — just where do you think you’re going? — but as she rearranged herself, draping a paw across his chest, he found himself reassured. The low, thrumming purr in his throat started up again, accompanied by a saucy flick of his twitching tail — but choked off as a startled chuckle burst from his lips. Having his ear mouthed and nibbled was a completely new sensation, and — as he always seemed to learn something new with Doe — today he learned that he was rather ticklish. “Hm,” he mused thoughtfully, flicking his ear as her ministrations returned to the cuts on his face. Fondly he stretched his own paws out, flexing and curling his toes.

It was only when she mentioned his humming that he recalled he had plans of his own — and it caused him to stir briefly. Lifting his muzzle so that his whiskers lightly grazed the curve of her upright ear, he hummed the song for her again: “I’m gonna wear you down; I’m gonna make you see — I’m gonna get to you; you’re gonna give in to me.” He swept his tongue over the fur atop her crown, that baby-soft fuzz that lay between her oversized ears, and switched directions — tracing a leisurely path around her ear and down to the curve of her jaw. He touched her with utmost tenderness, treating her as though she were made of feathers and eggshell. Immensely relaxed, he ventured to speak anew: “Have s-somethin’…” he murmured, feeling only a flicker of tension in his throat. Alone with Doe, her body tucked against his like a limpet to its shell, he felt more relaxed than he’d ever felt in his life. Still, he buried his muzzle against her fur, muzzle parting to taste the salt crystals and the heat of her undercoat, before he continued. “Wanna sh-sh-show you.”

The words moved slowly, floating to his tongue with characteristic clumsiness, but they left him with greater confidence and fluidity than usual. For the gift of expressing his thoughts, he could never repay her — for he knew that it was because of her that he could speak at all.