Bearclaw Valley [m] burning skies

as she circles him, he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move, only follows her with his eyes. he lets her take the lead, lets her make her assessment. when her side brushes against his own, the heat of her touch cuts through the cold, and it’s all he can do to remain steady. his head dips slightly, muzzle tilting toward her as if to invite her closer, and his body shifts subtly, turning toward her.

her touch lingers on his side, and he lets it guide him, steps upon black paws slow as he mirrors her circling motion. his head invades her space so he might brush his dark snout faintly along the curve of her shoulder, inhaling the soft scent that permeates from her. a growl in his throat then, that she can’t hear but might feel vibrate the muzzle that burrows through her fur, scenting approvingly at her.

his breath is warm upon her fur, seeking to move his snout to angle down her neck, nose rooting patiently through her fur. his tongue, warm, finds her ear and he laps once, twice at the base where ear and dark skull connect. his own blood hums, his heartbeat heavy in his chest as if it might leap out and betray the calm he’s trying to maintain.

it is not his wish to rush her, and it’s clear in the soft approach he takes with her now. letting her circle him, assess him, brush against him; whatever she might do, a man confident but patient to her wills. his head lowers to bump against hers as he attempts to press his strong frame up further against her, seeking more touch from her now.