Firefly Glen some place we called home

Being the lupine version of a handkerchief tickled, and Cypress bit down on his lower lip to keep from laughing outright as Rian’s snout buried into the angular sweep of his chest. The chocolate-furred wolf’s touch was electric and odd to Cypress, who didn’t typically allow anyone to get so close to him, and his heightened senses made the tickling worse. It was a completely inappropriate time to laugh, so he did his best to stow it, especially when Rian issued a series of shuddering, sniffling breaths that threatened to undo the raven. His normally stoic visage twisted itself into a mixture of agony and badly concealed mirth, but when the beta thrust his muzzle into the hollow of Cypress’ axilla and then spoke into it, his mouth warm and damp with tears, the eidolon couldn’t hold it anymore. “Rian — tickles — ” he gasped out, his broad shoulders quaking with a soundless, stuttering chuckle that bordered dangerously on hysterical.

The burst of laughter was enough to break the tension, but it also made Cypress feel inordinately guilty. Rian was in agony, and the aspiring gamma hadn’t wanted to laugh. “Sorry,” he whined, settling down. “I couldn’t help it.” He turned to Rannoch, hoping that the grayscale male had some idea of how to save the situation or change the subject — anything that would take this embarrassment and shame away.