Hideaway Strath Nobody does it like you do

Leigh starts strong. Her words hitting him like a freight train — cutting deep. His ears press to the back of his skull in defense at what she says about Simmik and then herself. She mentions brainwashing Simmik and that instantly gets under his skin, making the Grandmaster bristle under her judgmental gaze. No. Simmik loved him before all that. He knows it. So he steels himself for her next onslaught of words. 

And you would have chased me? A breath then, a shaky intake of air betrays Leigh’s anger for hurt. He feels his irritation crack a bit at that. 

I would have chased you. I did chase you and you just never noticed. You've done terrible things to me and I still can't let you go. You're a fucking infection. I don't need to accept you because I would have still loved you. You are my special person, Donovan. You are my Simmik. But you say you aren't willing to change, so I suppose someone who is incapable of love such as yourself can never learn to love me anyways. I forgive you, but I doubt you even care because someone like you doesn't care about earning forgiveness and you never will.

Those are the words that break his resolve — that crack his mask of indifference. Leigh’s anger — her hate — all stemmed from her love … for him.

With dark auds still pressed back, he hesitates. Muscles twitch like he’s about to move, but he doesn’t. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Eyes that twin the midday sun widen, revealing clarity and still so many other questions. He feels like shit. He feels so many things. Back then, when Simmik hated him, he spent so much time with Leigh. Her fiery eyes were bright and looked at him with adoration and friendship. Now, all she has for him is hate — pent up and released — born from her unrequited love and jealousy. 

He doesn’t hesitate this time. His muscles move before his consciousness can catch up. Striding the short distance towards her with purpose, he doesn’t have anger or hate in his eyes; he has the opposite — longing, realization, regret, sadness. His body makes contact with hers, head and neck first as he passionately rubs himself against her. A paw to her side forces her to the ground as softly as he can and his large body encompasses her own smaller one. He doesn’t press his weight down on her, he leaves her an escape if she desires it, but his thick forearms settle on each side of her head as he shrouds her in affection. 

Nothing but raw emotion on his handsome face, he fervently rasps a dark tongue to her face. Along her muzzle, cheeks, nose, ears, all while his paws cradle her. He’s horribly passionate, such strong emotions flowing through him and he doesn’t even know what to do with himself. He doesn’t even know what to do once he gets up. He’s ready to take Leigh’s bites and snaps if she doesn’t want him — just as well as he’s ready to take her affection if he’s lucky enough to get it. 

Why didn’t she just tell him sooner?