Phoenix Maplewood bad moon rising

The tears are not something he can comprehend.  He had not intended to hurt her; at least, not like that.  His spine arched and coiled as his stance widened, predatory, before he drew close to the corner of her eye.  He licked at the saltsoaked tears that threatened there as he hooked a thin forepaw around her to pull her to his chest.

His hips threatened to buck again against her thigh but he kept himself in check as his muzzle found its way to the crook of her ear where he allowed himself to breathe out, softer than a creature as black and sharp as he should be able to.

I will give you what you want, he offers finally, if you let me hold you after.