Moonspear [m] the suspension of disbelief

Cuddling, he decided, was not at all lame. The lame part was how, like this, Treepie would certainly be able to feel and hear how violently his heart was pounding.

"It is," he agreed, but he felt even lamer when his voice cracked even on those two little words. He shifted a little to make a better cushion for her to lean against, lifting his chin and tucking her down a little tighter, so that it was a little more like an embrace, but still also a restful repose.

His whole body felt simultaneously numb and aflame. But something else was seeping through him: a warm lethargy that made him shiver, just a little, as it ran its fingers down his spine.

"Definitely not lame," he huffed, looking out at the stars in blind wonder. This was, perhaps, the best feeling he'd ever felt.