Lion Head Mesa con[m]igo

unlike many pets, gucci was never neutered. he still felt the urges which brought him to whimpering and whining in the presence of those in heat, but he thought himself self-restrained. civilised. especially as in his lived experience, with the exception of that bi-annual oestrus, the opposite sex was largely uninterested in coupling and teasing. 

so this... forwardness... caught him off-guard.

gucci swallowed. he found it within himself to look up at her, remaining wordless, layers of uncertainty showing in his expression. oh good lawd, if ah decline, she'll think me thinkin' her inadequate, or shamin' her for bein' so forward! his lips tightened with indecision. 

and then she said something that was a lifeline. 

"prince crawfetha?" in his surprise he blanked for a second, unintentionally allowing the fellahin to press a kiss to his narrow chest, which caused him to stiffen up (but not in a way belen desired).

he looked at the woman. girl. he couldn't not see her as both; an adult in body, but an adolescent in desire. perhaps it was his presumptuousness showing. perhaps things worked differently in this land beyond the blessings of humanity. perhaps he needed loosen up...

still, one needed to exercise restraint.

gently, the chihuahua put his paws to the fellahin's muzzle, lightly pushing her away.

"ahm... honoured you'd allow me, but it's crawfetha you want, nawt me." there was a sad smile on his lips. "ah'll gladly tell him there's a pretty thang like you desirin' 'im, but ya needn't persuade me first."