Bearclaw Valley Now you know, all you need is me

Rather than being met with the harsh pinch of her teeth, he felt her tongue running over his muzzle. And although she didn’t say anything else, he took it as acceptance—despite his comment, she’d forgiven him. Slowly, his tail started to wag and he pressed himself closer to her, essentially burying his faze in her fur as he tried to get her to ease up; he could sense something was off, still, like there was something unsettling her. He chalked it up to be the lingering effects of his words, which made him feel even worse but didn’t push him away. He remained close to her for just a little while longer, tail waving behind him whilst he tried to mend things.

Eventually, he pulled his head back so he could look her in the eyes, then licked over the fur his face was previously pressed into to smooth it back out. He wanted to hear her say something else, to figure out what more she could say and understand, but he didn’t know where to begin—so he reverted back to the basics, a wild grin tugging at his lips as he said, “Hellooo,” right back. He didn’t know what would come of it, if he would be able to get her to speak again, but he definitely wanted to try. Not only because he was drawn to her voice, however, but because he also viewed it as a pleasant distraction from his earlier mistake—

—the more he thought about it, the less truth he found behind his words. He’d thought their union to be a mistake, he’d thought that it was something that would pass following the return of normalcy, but now he believed the opposite. He didn’t love her—he couldn’t love anyone, not so soon, it was too difficult of an emotion for him to develop towards anyone—but he did care for her. He wanted her to feel safe, like she belonged and was welcomed—and he definitely wouldn’t mind taking her any way that he could, whether she was in heat or not.