Totoka River baby, when I whisper, can you hear?

Stockholm pauses abruptly when Coelacanth draws away, his ears slicking back against his skull as he catches her gaze. The unease in her eyes – and something else, even if it is only there for the briefest span of time – makes him rapidly reassess the moment, trying to make sense of it. There is something wrong, something other than nerves set on edge by hormones, but he doesn’t know what it is. Maybe something had happened after all.

The Armenian is still as a statue even as she melts at his feet and exposes the vulnerable curve of her underside, and when he does move it is with great slowness, allowing her every opportunity to escape him. He dips his head as he steps forward, and though he greatly desires to direct his attention between her thighs, he instead avoids directly touching her any lower than her sternum; combs through the fur there with his teeth, moves up to lick her throat and under her chin until he is standing directly over her again.

“Love you, Seelie.” He rubs his muzzle against hers, tilts his head to nose beneath her ear, then steps slightly to the side and flops into the sand beside her – he is not above her in rank, they are equals, and his desires do not outweigh or take precedence over her own. He wants her to know this, needs to make sure she knows this.

He rolls onto his side slightly and drops his head to the ground, gaze fixed on her, soft smile on his lips as he reaches out towards her with a paw. Like this was nothing, just their normal playing and snuggling. Because if that’s all she wants it to be? Then that’s all it has to be. If she wants it to be something more? Well, he’s definitely on board for that too. “We can go back to the island, if you want. Don’t have to do anything. Or we can stay here. Can do whatever you want. Still love you, always love you, no matter what. You know that, right?”