Firefly Glen in my veins like fire

he stands over her with breath held tight in his chest, the rise and fall of his ribs slow. his paw presses firm to her side and he feels the tension still alive beneath her skin, the storm not yet faded, only quieted.
he watches her with eyes sharp and unreadable, the weight of her submission felt like a crown pressed between them. he steps back slowly, gaze never leaving her, then dips his head once—for her.
þū eart heard. and mōdig. his tail sways once at his hocks, an unspoken respect.
he does not gloat. for why would he? he had only garnered the upper hand. the next, it might just as easily be her on top. he would not hate that.