Bearclaw Valley If love is a joke, then use me ruthlessly

The closer he got, the greater it grew, and the more difficult it became for him to fall victim to distractions. He didn’t know what it was at first—he never did—but when the source was revealed he had his suspicions. But Alexander was not himself, at least not in the civil sense of the concept—he was a primal being, ruled by instincts and roped in by nature itself.

But he was neither impolite nor pushy, tail swishing amicably behind him as he closed the space between them. Soft whines emanated from his throat as he sought her muzzle out with his, mouthing at it gently. He even dipped his head thereafter, tossing it back and forth as if to encourage play; though that wasn’t what he wanted, he kept at it. And, as if to further contribute to the idea—it wasn’t intentional, he didn’t even realise the resemblance—he approached her and bumped his shoulder against hers, keeping up with his overall mouthy antics all the while.