Herbalists' Cache An Escape

Fuck it.

He ran his nose along the sharp, gently curving line of her jaw, giving her the barest of nibbles from the edge of her mouth to the base of her throat. He brought his muzzle up to her ear. He wasn't here to give her an anatomy lesson--not a lecture, anyway. He wanted to teach her with body, not words.

"Your body shouldn't contain it," Shale crooned in her ear, then ran the underside of his chin over her head, sweeping it downwards so that her nose brushed against the sensitive skin there. He shuddered, and waves of his own kind of heat rippled through him; every touch set him ablaze, and he would burn for her, gladly.

"I'm sorry, baby," he mumbled, giving her another long look before continuing his ministrations. He began to stride past her, his pelt still brushing hers. "You were right; I was wrong. You were right. . .I was wrong." He was chanting slightly, a sort of mantra, as he approached her from behind and pressed his nose against her right rear flank, giving her a gentle nip there before taking another deep breath of that savory perfume.

He wanted her, he wanted her to be ready. . .but, oh, he wasn't sure if he could wait much longer.