[It's the hand she's kept at his neck that makes bracing him easy, giving her enough room to dip down and set her mouth to the base of his throat where he's curled against her (a kiss that's all easy affection despite his hemming and hawing) nose scuffing across delicate skin as an afterthought. A nod from one feral creature to another that signifies a certain fondness beyond the familiar.
When she finally speaks up, it's muttered against the muscle of his neck:] Shut the hell up.
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When she finally speaks up, it's muttered against the muscle of his neck:] Shut the hell up.