saving myself from the ruin

She waits, bites her tongue and watches him in wary silence, expecting him to be angry, to lash out or protest. Instead, she is met by his stilled figure and pursed lips, bile rising in her throat before she forces it down, whines quietly seeping from between her lips, her skull lowered in the shame of her defeat. He does not move for too long, an eternity of stillness and silence and she takes a tentative step forward, pauses, a shudder running down her spine. At last he alters his stance, turns towards her and sinks to the earth as though defeated and she sighs, her eyes closing in momentary sorrow though she is surprised when he brushes against her, his muzzle pillowing in the soft flesh of her breast and she submits, sighing against him and crumpling to the earth, her chin coiling over his nape. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, a tepid breath that peels against his flesh, and then a mantra, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."