Bearclaw Valley you need cooling

Cole huffed, a quiet sound, more felt than heard, as she pressed in closer, closer still. Like she was trying to crawl beneath his skin, as if the warmth between them wasn’t enough. And truth be told, it never was—not for her, not for him.
Her voice was soft, muffled by the press of her muzzle into his fur, but he heard the teasing lilt, felt the smile against his chest. He let out a slow breath, shaking his head just slightly.
Wouldn’t be much of a fight, he admitted, voice low, rough. You win before I even get my damn teeth in.
It was true. He wouldn’t fight her, not really. He’d argue, sure—grumble about duty, about the things that needed doing. But in the end, she’d win, because she always did. Because when she looked at him like that, when she clung to him like he was the only thing keeping her tethered, he didn’t have it in him to pull away.
It wasn’t soft, not this time. There was weight to it, the kind that settled in his bones, heavy and warm all at once. He exhaled through his nose, pressing his jaw to the crown of her head, lingering.
I know, he said, quiet, honest. Ain’t ever been a question.