[ loving. It's the right word, and he feels the warmth of it between them, growling and sighing into Olivine's hair as he continues to stroke the other's stomach. He's in a lulled haze, and it isn't long before he drifts into sleep, still knotted to the other, still thoughtless other than bliss.
When he wakes, the knot is still tight, the warmth still there, but fur has dissipated, hands are hands, and when he shifts back, pulling that sensitive knot and a moan with it, panic suddenly jarrs through his thoughts.
Gods what has he done? He -- he --
He mated. He --
His grip gets tense, clammy, and then abruptly releases, except he can't ease away. Doesn't want to, but doesn't feel like he ought to be here, still inside Olivine, in Olivine in the first place.
His breathing becomes more shallow, and all he wants to do is bury his face in the other's back, except that's exactly what he shouldn't be doing. ]
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When he wakes, the knot is still tight, the warmth still there, but fur has dissipated, hands are hands, and when he shifts back, pulling that sensitive knot and a moan with it, panic suddenly jarrs through his thoughts.
Gods what has he done? He -- he --
He mated. He --
His grip gets tense, clammy, and then abruptly releases, except he can't ease away. Doesn't want to, but doesn't feel like he ought to be here, still inside Olivine, in Olivine in the first place.
His breathing becomes more shallow, and all he wants to do is bury his face in the other's back, except that's exactly what he shouldn't be doing. ]