Kintla Flatlands [m] so please don't take me for no fool

The promise is enough for now. His muzzle dips, nose moving through Kratos's fur, and he nips at his neck gently. The scent of him is comforting, familiar by now. He whines softly, betraying the lingering undertone of desire in his actions. His next nip is aimed slightly higher, ears folding slowly as he seeks something more from Kratos. He doesn't know how to ask, nor does he know how seduction works — that much is likely obvious in his uncertainty, the way he hesitates before each touch as if he might cut the wrong cord and set the bomb off at any moment.