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

She did not flee or display any signs of discomfort, matching him instead. Alexander took it as a welcoming, pressing forward, still, and bumping his nose against various places all over her face. This he was used to, in a way, but also not quite; he’d been lured in and trapped before but, for the first time, he did not try to fight or rush it. He took his time, playing with her and finding comfort in her company, as he nipped and pulled at her cheek—then her shoulder and her side, before stopping finally at her flank. And though he found solace in being so close to her, her scent like a drug to his senses, he couldn’t ignore the growing discomfort in his nether regions.

In what was perhaps his most impolite—to onlookers, anyways, although it felt entirely natural to him—gesture yet, he shoved his nose towards her tail, only to retract it at the last second and, instead, press his muzzle against her tailhead. Along there he sniffed, taking in the hormones and further testing just how far he could go.