Bearclaw Valley pickin' me a bouquet of dogwood flowers

his movements were cautious enough that she did not fear him, and she steeled herself because she knew what came next.  he had missed her, she knew.  just as she missed him.  

his confusion dissipated and she eased, leaning into the slow draw of his tongue across the landscape of her jawbone.  there was something in the back of her mind, too — just because he is gentle with you does not mean that you are special — but just like before, she could not resist his constant pull.

you're not enough for him, whispers the voice.

she wriggled just barely closer, enough to where she could raise her muzzle against the bottom of his chin.  it was as close as she would — could — allow for now, but she hoped that it would put him at ease.

xan.