Bramblepoint we steal fire from the heavens

He was successful: she released another laugh, the softness of it not diminishing his infatuation with the sound. When she released him and tilted her head back, a playful smile curved his lips, and he lowered his muzzle, intent on burying it in her neck. But she looked like she was going to say something, so he paused and met her gaze. She didn't say anything, though, and he raised a questioning eyebrow. What? he asked softly into the space between their noses. Had he done something wrong? Her body was soft and pliant beneath his, and her face held no distress but still, he worried.