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

It was not his first time, he had taken part in the act several times before, but this time—this time was the first that he did not leave. Even after they were free of one another, he didn’t run off or insist she leave him be, but instead sought out her company even more. He didn’t know what it was, he didn’t have it in him right now to think—whatever it was, though, he didn’t dislike it. In fact, he almost preferred it, preferred her, over all else. Later, perhaps he would think himself to be a fool for letting someone so close again but, as of right now, he didn’t care about the past. He didn’t care about his mistakes, about those he’d once allowed to enter his life—no, he had not the capacity to even think about these things, let alone care for them, when around her.

He did not keep still as she drew close to him, returning her kisses with those of his own, mixing in nips as he went along. He was confused, deep down, though it’d yet to truly dawn on him; he could feel a nagging sense of why bubbling up within him, trying to take hold and drive him away to think, but he didn’t let it. He focused on where he was, being with her, and just enjoyed the feeling of being in her presence.

But then came the thought of danger, realising where they were and what was going on. With eager steps and soft tugs on her neck, he tried to lead her away from the entrance and down into the valley.