Moonspear Here I am

Something moved and molded him closer to something warm. He liked warm things. Except warm wet things, which is what he got next on his head. He protested in a verbal whine, wiggling his head back and forth as much as he could to get away from it. He had tried to find a nipple, but he was unsuccessful. Why didn't this warm thing give him what he wanted? The other one did. He tired himself out and eventually settled down into the warmth of this one anyways.